And All for Me, to Me, You Sue
by handwrittenxscene
Summary: Pertaining to the time after Edward left in New Moon, Bella was isolated in a world in which love was neither as promising, nor appealing. But then a new student arrives in Forks and threatens to change her mind. But then guess who returns... Edward/Bella
1. Callum Chandler

**Edward has left, isolating Bella in a world where she was neither dead or alive. Love was no longer promising, nor very appealing, but could a mysterious, new student possibly make her feel otherwise? And then "he" returns...**

**And All for Me, to Me, You Sue  
**Chapter 1: Callum Chandler

* * *

October

November

December

January

* * *

_"You… don't… want me?" I desperately scanned his face for an emotion – any sort of it – that could possibly equal the amount that is evident in both my voice and my face, I'm sure._ _But he bore none, evenly dividing his eyes and lips so neither presented a trace of feeling. _

_"No." It swung swift daggers that I knew were impossible to dodge – not that I had any strength, or reason, to dodge them now – in the direction of my heart and I became paralyzed in place. _

_My words froze within my throat in a blazing manner and a fatal trail of heat scathed my internal structures as it seemed to track every last, living part of me. I felt my heart drop with my eyes. I didn't miss – yet still tried to ignore – the cruel breeze that danced elegantly across my face. It boastfully flew and evaded the obstacles it met along the olive forest, echoing musical, soft notes to further show its grand ability. And then he was gone with it. The wind, the earth – _nature – _drew him away from me, and I threw my head in alarm to watch the futility of his return. My arms reached out helplessly into the sky, my fingers depicting the shape of his slender, toned figure as though they are attempting to conjure him physically in my arms again. I remained expressionless. My lips felt dry as they hung slightly open._

_A quiet, heavenly chuckle interrupted my impossible incantation. I quickly turned, and sure enough, there he was. _

_"Bella," he sung with the instrumental hum of the wind. _

_"Edward." I managed. The wind must have carried my crooked notes to his ears because even I barely heard myself. He smiled. Right then, upon that godly sight, I ran, swinging my arms open widely just as I –_

I gasped awake. The ancient bed creaked with my abrupt fixation beneath me. It took a little bit of a struggle for me to catch my breath, but it was hardly comparable to the struggle I have to encounter every morning when I try to escape from that nightmare of a dream. I wasn't about to let it happen again. Night after night, the same scene builds within my stubborn dreams, and each night, it ends similarly: We would hold each other – eternally, it would seem – and sigh contently at each other's mere presence.

I hated it – the impossibility of that man's return, emphasized by my very own unconsciousness. For months, I've avenged my torn existence by silly attempts to forget him, and to no reachable avail. Cool, wary breezes seeped through my windowpane, its invisible, tiny fragments squeezing through my skin. It made an angelic presentation with my lemon curtains – another one of my ancient belongings. I crept to my window slowly and absently traced its wooden border with my fingers. The sky was a smudged grey color, as it is on most days here at Forks. It fairly drizzled and yet still foreshadowed an afternoon downpour. I've actually begun to accept – and even like – its constant pattern. Envy easily invaded my fragile system at its independent ability to unleash the tears that are beyond its control.

I smiled earnestly. I pulled my curtains together and fixed my bed. Looking at it then, I realized how plain it was – ivory sheets with floral stitching on the bottom and on the top and only two pillows in soft, olive cases. Around the room was nothing more or less extravagant. Aged peach and shallow brown wallpaper covering the walls, a historic rocking chair left behind by my parents from my earlier years, a slouched desk – there to make up for the space than anything, I'd say – and a miniature walk-in closet, though reasonable when considered my pitiful amount of clothes. Clothes were ever hardly any interest to me, and I wondered if a time will come in which I'd scramble through that closet for what probably would end up being an uncomfortable and awkward occasion. I simply shook my head in hopeful objection while I made my way to the bathroom.

The cruiser was gone, as expected, and my lone '58 Chevy truck stood gallantly on our driveway. I boarded it carefully and set my bag down on the passenger seat, while setting myself up for yet another day.

A silver sparkle greeted me in the parking lot of good ol' Forks High School and my heart skipped a menacing beat. Impatient honks broke through my illusion – assuming that it _is _an illusion – and I randomly chose and parked, crookedly, in haste.

By the look on Jessica's face under the cafeteria shelter, it seemed as though another episode of her dramatic relationship with Mike had been unleashed. I internally readied myself for the exclamation to come.

"Sooo," she began without pace, "We made up! It was all so sweet, Bell, you should have been there. Well, you know, hypothetically. It was his sweetest made-up yet." And then ended without pace.

I chuckled. In spite of her anxious habits, Jessica really knew how to forget the natural mood of the weather and remember that days are days, nights are nights, and time will be time. Sometimes, it was refreshing, and I was relieved to find out today wasn't one of the days it wasn't.

We exchanged our goodbyes and promises on social updates in second-period Calculus outside of my first period class. I smiled weakly as I followed her with my eyes. She's been a wonderful confidant and I was even thankful that she's voluntarily walked me to my first class ever since…

For a moment, I'd let myself bow my head in defeated memories that were less distant as I would have hoped, but more quickly braced myself out of it. I was proud to have succeeded, what with such excruciatingly long and vividly difficult practice. I walked familiarly to the back of the classroom, responding to morning greetings and classroom complaints along the way. I purposefully ignored the empty seat next to me, or tried to, anyway. The corner of my eye still reached its sullen range and I narrowed my eyes painfully at the sly memories that threaten to unmask me once more today. I was used to this, or at least I should be. Strangling my recent satisfaction about myself, I instantly felt ashamed, weak with my disabilities.

All of a sudden, I felt dizzy. I should be used to this, as well. I sat up straight, but cupped my cheek in my left hand, my eyes fluttering from the board to my desk and back again.

"With that said and done, let's return to our literary items. Out of five dozens of established rhetorical devices, only about ten are reviewed, five of which I'm sure you've all abandoned in junior high." It must be the teacher, and I… must have fallen asleep.

I blinked my eyes a few times and retrieved my previous posture against my palm. The frenzy, white lights attacked my eyes immediately but I fought back respectively anyway. I tried balancing my forehead on my knuckles instead. Once it begun applying slight stress against the back of my neck, I threw my head irritably back against the wall. That only delivered a bigger stress on the back of my neck. After the massive stress that came with bowing it forward, I gave up and simply decided to pay attention.

A low and strangely easing chuckle fired beside me. I felt a sharp strain on my neck as I twisted my head in the direction of the unknown melodist, but it didn't last long at all.

"Amusing," he sounded, and then he smiled.

My lips hung involuntarily and my eyes stared – Oh, God, tell me they hadn't. Tell me they didn't stare at those captivating, golden magnolia orbs or that silky, pearl skin. Don't tell me they dared try memorizing those dusty pink lips and the way they curled into a crescent shape, revealing teeth as white as snow in the eye of winter. His dark, thick hair was an attractive mess. It hung loosely against his ears and thinned around his beautiful face. The tender tone of his figure curved and bulked in all the right places.

They did, these traitors.

My eyes involuntarily widened and pulled back, making it all the more embarrassing. It's always more embarrassing when you show you're embarrassed because that's when you realize you should be. I was right, for he laughed again. I offered him an agitated look, which only tossed him into a roar, ignoring the control he must have been measuring for himself in respect of the classroom. Just then, I noticed how everyone – or at the least, the girls – already had their eyes on us, or more specifically, him, whoever 'him' was. His unwelcome scene only provoked more heads our way.

"Mister Chandler?" Mr. Bertly inquired. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," the mystery boy managed between hysterics. He gained composure of himself quite easily after that, but his magnificent smile remained and he rubbed his head as he spoke. "I'm sorry about that. What an embarrassing way to start off, huh?"

The girls giggled and the teacher raised a confused eyebrow – confused whether it should be angry or, well, confused. He gave a demanding cough, and everyone's eyes hurriedly faked its obedience to the board once more. Above and beyond that, however, was still the obvious question that's reasonably bothering me now more than it was before.

"It's Callum," he said calmly, his brilliant smile still as persistent, "Callum Chandler."

I hesitated. "Bella."

His smile grew bigger and more or as attractive, but definitely not less. I could tell he was trying to suppress another scene.

"A little hostile, but quite understandable… Bella."

I immediately hated him for making my name sound so irresistible.

"I'm sorry I laughed at you before—"

"So you were laughing _at _me."

"Well, yes, but had you witnessed your own set of actions, and while so tired!" he looked as though he was replaying it over in his head, "Really, it was adorable." His voice sweetened at the last few words.

"'Adorable' is hardly a preferred adjective to someone past adolescence," I shot coldly. It was a poor disguise for my natural vulnerability.

His eyes drowned in further amusement. I both hated and loved that I was providing such entertainment for this stranger – again, strangely. Somehow, I was glad to see that his smile mirrored his eyes. That was surprising. How long had it been since I felt this way, or even so much as paid attention, to someone's smile? There was either something fishy or incredibly remarkable about this boy. Inside of me, I twisted my emotions in hoping that it would conclusively turn out to be the second one, even though a part of me was still guarded – too guarded, I'd even say. I was far from being able to handle any more surprises, good or bad.

I was relieved when he tilted his head toward the lecture and sunk back against his seat. He planned to behave. I was saved. It was a struggle to let go of the fresh confusion that seemed to engulf me. Answers were always a preference over questions.

The bell rang at that time. At first, it drew me by surprise – I must have slept for a while. I still don't understand where this boy came from and why everybody had been so casual about his abrupt presence. It appeared as though I missed something while I was deep asleep. He was by the door before I could check up on him again. His defined structure was utterly front-cover material as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed casually across his chest, waiting. I gulped; he was looking at me. Hesitation was written all over my posture as I walked toward the exit, inevitably running by him.

"Bella." It was so casual, like we've known each other forever. As if my name was a life-long, childhood inside joke. But he wasn't laughing, nor was he even smiling when he said it. His eyes were still amused, but this time, newly, like he'd just found another token for a scrapbook. He smiled when I made it known that I've acknowledged him, even though I made sure my response was somewhat discouraging. It appeared like he was the one not acknowledging _me_.

"Where's next class—" he enthused.

"I hardly know you or where you came from or how you got here," I interrupted.

"I don't understand why you're so stingy if that's so." His voice was mildly irritated now.

"Perhaps it's as much of a difficulty for you as it for me to understand how you could be so casual."

"You're not very friendly. Have you even heard of the term?"

I grimaced. "In fact, I have."

"And I bet it wasn't toward you."

I turned to him. I felt my eyebrows narrow forward and my lips press together. He sighed next to me.

"What do you _want_?" I emphasized the word like its meaning could not have possibly been anything less than poison.

He paused and his face looked distorted like he was thinking. No, deciding either for or against something is more like it. I pulled my face back at his reaction. Finally, he averted his gaze upon me once more. His eyes were smiling again, almost causing a relieved sensation to crowd inside my body – almost. What did I care if this boy wanted me dead? Or otherwise… What did I care if he didn't? Either way, he's done much more than merely bother me today, and it wasn't only the way he presented himself. The thing is, I simply don't understand why my mind's reacting so much to him at all.

"Time," he said plainly.

"What would you need time for?" It was a sincerely curious – and more than reasonable – question.

He only smiled. "Not for me; for you."

* * *

**_Hey, guys! If you've actually read this far, wow... that alone makes me ecstatic. This is my first fanfiction, triggered by my superb addiction with this book. So please rate&review. I'd appreciate any kind of comments or critiques. : An update shall be up soon -- summer's the sha-zam!_**


	2. Time

**All for Me, to Me, You Sue  
**Chapter 2: Time

Not for him, but rather, for me? My mind failed to so much as scratch the significance of his words. Possibilities rang dryly through my head, but I knew they were much too weak and unlikely, if there ever even came a reason that was past ridiculous. Nevertheless, the consistent thoughts occupied my brain, racing through my head anxiously as I hurried to reach my second period in time.

Considering the size of Forks, it isn't alarming that the size of its only high school was just as microscopic. I easily made my way around the campus to my Calculus class, where Jessica was waiting impatiently for me – and another full hour of scribbled notes and suppressed giggles and sighs.

Time dragged, as it always did, before lunchtime. Lunch had been a comforting period for me – to an extent, at least, with Lauren's unyielding lack of thoughtfulness toward our quite-too-hopeless friendship. The most I'd get out of her existence was the constant cold glares she'd shoot generously across the table at lunch whenever Mike or Tyler – or any boy, really – made even the smallest attempt to converse with me, vocally or physically. Her icy stare always added to my unwillingness to cooperate with the male species' tendency to concede to their natural, well, willingness. Today was no different as I caught her disapproving eyes when I went to sit down by Angela. We've accomplished a common routine with our seating arrangements: I sat next to the right of Angela, while Ben, her steady and immensely loyal boyfriend, sat on her left. Mike took permanent dibs between Jessica and me and, of course, Jessica sat next to his own right. Sometimes, I still think that this particular arrangement bothered Jessica some – why the need for Mike to specifically sit between the two of us? Across the table was Lauren, across from Jessica at the edge of the table, and beside her sat Tyler – conveniently for her – and from there, was Eric and Austin, who sat across the table from Ben. Overall, I was completely satisfied with this arrangement. Having Angela and Mike sit on either side of me was also very convenient. They were the first two who managed past the invisible barricade I've unconsciously set for myself after the first few months of _his _absence.

Actually, Jessica had been the first, but because she was also the closest I was with, it made a bigger impact on her when I simply began to ignore her, as if we were never that close to begin with. That set her off my tail for a while, and for a while, that impact transformed into anger. It was then that I began to realize what was happening to me. While everyone else simply ignored my behavior, she responded to it negatively. It suddenly struck me the way she treated me, and I realized everyone would have done the same, if they only chose not to have ignored it. In many ways, I was thankful that Jessica – in all her prying nature – didn't choose to do the same, or else I can't imagine what I'd end up becoming – or _not _becoming, is more logical. I examined our table as optimistically as I could manage, trying not to acknowledge what, or who, were missing.

"So, Bella," Jessica began enthusiastically, "I heard a new guy – No, I'm sorry – a new, _gorgeous _guy sits next to you in English now."

I eyed Mike. He was the only who could have told her because he's the only one reasonable enough in my English class to spill the beans. He shrugged with a sheepish grin.

"You two looked comfortable enough," he defended. "Didn't he wait for you in the hall?"

Before I could respond, Jessica absolutely glowed. Her eyes widened with curiosity and excitement. "He waited for you?"

"Well, yes," I began, feeling the need to suddenly keep his mystery agenda a secret – at least until I've uncovered it for myself to see if it was safe enough to spill.

"Oh my gosh, that's just romantic, like in a movie!"

"Um, babe," Mike interrupted her – she was obviously not done gushing.

"Hm?"

But, of course, she'd listened.

"Better shut up," he said flatly in a whisper without any tone of arrogance in his voice. His eyes were not at all set upon her, and I guessed that was another reason why she didn't automatically take offensive, as she would have done.

But it sure shut her – and more importantly, me – up when we'd followed his gaze.

Jessica had to twist her waist at least a full one-eighty before she could finally gasp at the figure behind her. Familiar – No, not familiar, but more _unforgettable _– golden sunflower eyes peered delightedly down at my possibly less delighted expression. I didn't even catch a hint of his presence until now. The intruder smiled politely at his other audiences, breaking me free away from his piercing eyes. I had only just noticed what he was wearing then. A loose, navy blue long-sleeve hugged him comfortably, its short V-line neck barely revealing the white undergarment that probably hugged him tighter from beneath his this sweatshirt. The extra size larger did nothing to hide his fully toned figure. Snug, beige pants hung down his elaborately long legs, visible in spite of the casual pose he was in. 'Simple' was an understated fact. He snuggled one of his hand in the pocket of his pants while the other held both straps of his black, leather backpack on one, broad shoulder.

"I'm Jessica," I heard Jessica sigh. I figured it was meant to sound more matter-of-factly. I guess I missed yet another one of his public introductions during my silent observation. It was hard to focus on more than one subject when you're studying something so intently well-made.

"Oh, and this is my… uh, boyfriend, Mike, my friend, uh… er, Bella Swan," she continued quickly – mega-ly charmed, I easily guessed – as she went through the entire cast of the table, mentioning some last names randomly in a confused trance. Mike snorted under his breath at her pause after her introduction of herself.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," he said serenely. "And ah," he dabbed his eyes on me once more, "Is it Swan, really? You missed that part this morning, Bella."

I felt all eyes on me at once. It even felt like the entire cafeteria bore their undying attention to me right then, but his eyes kept me on them. I shook my head mentally at the involuntary trance.

"Unmistakengly," I bit. It was surprisingly hard to keep any sign of my vulnerability in check. I didn't like it, not at all.

He narrowed his eyebrows together in the slightest – though I still caught it – before suddenly dramatizing it, his sarcasm dripping from his soft bellow: "Ouch."

"Why don't you sit with us?" Angela offered politely. I knew she was trying to ease the tension between us, which I'm thankful to know was much for my benefit. I wasn't baffled about her suggestion, either, for how else was innocent little Angela going to shake him off my temper? Tell him to get lost and desperately look for a life?

I thought I saw a hint of confusion flicker in his eyes before he smiled appreciatively at her. At least _that _looked sincere enough. Even Angela couldn't hold off the lightest shade of blush after that.

He composedly scanned our table for an open space and his eyes danced as if to say, '_Ah_', when he spotted the space between Eric and Tyler. Eric and Tyler hardly shared much of the same interests, and therefore usually tended to stick within their own common ground-topics (that which usually involves Mike, Tyler, Jessica, and Lauren on one side and Austin, Eric, Ben, and Angela on the other). I guess it was safe to call myself neutral – the grey from black and white. He settled comfortably between them, right across from me – oh, my great luck – and casually delighted the group with a simple outlook of his life before Forks. He hadn't paid me any special gesture after that, and that was just fine – fantastic, in fact – with me.

The bell rang conveniently a few minutes later. I shuffled myself out of my seat and waited for Angela and Ben to take off with me.

"What's your next class?" I heard Jessica ask – Callum, obviously, for she'd just about done memorizing everyone else's regular schedule.

"Spanish 2."

I froze. A faint profanity escaped my lips.

"Oh, well then, you should walk with Bella and them. They're on their way over there, too."

"Are they? How convenient." But he sounded the word _convenient _as if it was meant to be something else, like _interesting_. I immediately felt his eyes on me, and group of sighs and soft giggles around me let me know that he was smiling.

At least Mr. Moore hadn't made him sit next to me, or anywhere near me, really. I sat near the back, close to the wall on the right side of the classroom, where the exit door was. Ben sat next to me, against the same wall, and Angela right in front of him. Callum sat across the room by the window, almost in the middle row of desks. He behaved well – much better than he had sitting next to me this morning. He only looked out in the pouring rain, his luminous eyes concentrated somewhere in the blurred scenery of the wet outdoors. Somehow, he looked peaceful and, of course, beautiful, even with his distant expression, and I wondered what he was thinking about. He had his chin rested on his palm, and if you're not looking at his eyes, it would only seem as though he was bored out of his mind. Every now and then, he would swipe his radiant hair aside from his even more radiant face, but that was all the movement he spared – not even his eyes flickered once. Not even when a girl in our class named Rachel clumsily dropped a pencil case full of various writing utensils and everyone turned to look at the cause, some anxious to see if it was something they could laugh about. It wasn't until the end of the class when everyone shoved and excused their way to the door that I realized the only way I could have known – because I was looking at him.

On the way to my last class, I kept kicking myself at how ashamed I _should _be, and then kicking myself more for not feeling so. It was unfair, how attractive he was and how that restricted my eyes from looking away and my mind, from feeling absolutely horrified and disgusted with myself. But more than that, it angered me to know that isn't all the reasons why, if that was even a reason at all. To be honest, it was hardly a kind of reason that would have affected me much, especially not now, not anymore. I mentally did this until the end of school and while on my way to my pride-and-joy truck.

The rain beat down against the damaged concrete mercilessly, like I'd predicted it would this morning. A wide, silver object glinted somewhere in the lot, but it was hard to identify it conclusively within the heavy shower of the rain. I squinted my eyes in focus, unsurprised when it turned out to be a car – considering this _is _the parking lot – but still completely bothered. Since… well, since _then_ – I decided that was satisfying the past – I haven't seen a silver car within this particular parking lot, much less this whole particular town. I was surprised at how little the absence of it affected me, what with all the months I spent crying about it inside of my truck before class started. Maybe that was exactly why. These past few weeks, it seemed as though my eyes have dried themselves of tears. I was getting tired. Not exactly giving up, but too tired to move on still.

My eyes still shadowed the silver car – it was too modern for my all-classic-all-antique eyes to identify – while it patiently drove by. As it came to pass me, my eyes widened in mild horror, though that was uncalled for – a completely exaggeration reaction, I'd say.

Wheeling the car to life was none other than Callum Chandler. I felt silly at how obvious that should have been. New kid, new ride – duh. He suddenly tilted his head my way as if he'd known I was standing there, strangely bewildered by his owning a car – something everybody does these days – and yet still managed to play an oblivious expression on his face.

I simply _hmph_ed my head away, but before I did, I could have sworn I saw the brilliance of his smile. But somehow, this time, it was almost… almost… warm.

I slapped my head down hard against my pillow and grasped for the other one to hug it tightly at my chest. I sighed as I closed my eyes restlessly. Here within the confines of my privacy was exactly where I am most troubled and especially not alone. My thoughts spiraled through me, seeming to have claimed more than my mind but also my veins and lungs, and I struggled to keep it from my heart as well. I should be used to this, this throbbing motion of my past, replaying involuntarily across my head. I knew a part of me was because I let go before I was ready—No, _he _let _me _go. And he let me go way before I was ready – he let me go while I still lived, and he, as well. With a sudden gasp, I shook those thoughts away, feeling the tears cloud my eyes, irritating the lower creases beneath my eyes. I blinked them away helplessly.

I quickly racked my brain for a new subject. This triggered some sort of déjà vu, as though I've been through this not long ago. And then I remembered this morning with Callum. "Not for me," he'd said, "For you." What did that mean? After, he'd simply poked my forehead gently with a light smile and turned to leave. Though I struggled to keep up, I was no match for his graceful agility and that alone kept me from shouting across the hall for him – as if I didn't look stupid enough. I stuffed the pillow against my face to reduce the volume of what I felt coming.

"Ugh! Stupid, not-making-sense, new-kid weirdo!" Only I'd meant it to sound more understandable instead of the muffled, ancient language it had turned out to be under my pillow.

I inhaled deeply and then exhaled to calm myself. I slowly slid the pillow to my chest and rested my forearm against my forehead, my eyes settled on the ceiling. For a while, I managed to distract my disarray of thoughts by blinking continuously up at my ceiling light before focusing my eyes on the wall, trying to catch the illusionary dots that seem to appear at random intervals.

"Bella!"

I blinked before recognizing the sound of my own name.

"Yes, dad?" I called back.

"Jessica's on the phone downstairs!"

"Alright, I'm coming," I called again as I scrambled out of my bed, relieved to have found an opening from my solitary void.

"So," she snickered on the phone. She made it sound as though that single word completed, emphasized, and marked the importance of her entire objective.

"No, I don't like him," I insisted plainly.

"Well, _he _likes _you_. I can so tell, and I think it's cute. _He's _cute!"

"Yes, I know—"

"Then the problem is—?"

I chuckled. "That I don't like him."

"Oh, Bells, give it time. At least give it time."

I restrained from telling her that I can't really give time to things at once… for her and my own benefit.

"Okay," I gave in, still not exactly sure whether I meant it or not.

She sounded enthused. "I invited him tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? What's—Oh, no, Jess, you didn't!"

"Why not? He's kind of one of us now. Let's make him feel welcome. Just think of it as that," she cooed.

I felt my hands tense around the receiver.

"Besides," she continued. I braced myself for what I knew was coming. "You have no date." She didn't need to make it so straightforward…

"Jacob will be there," I reasoned.

"Yes, but he's no _date_. Or…?"

"Or nothing. You're right, he isn't, but he's personally a lovely and perfectly good excuse for avoiding the whole 'third wheel' thing."

"That won't do it for him," she giggled, "And you know that."

And boy, was she right. Jacob never lets me forget about his feelings. I smiled at the thought of him. He's truly my best friend, perhaps even exceeding Jessica. To summarize all he was to me and all he's done for me while Jessica – especially Jessica – was waiting for my response on the phone would mean war tomorrow at school. He has done so much… and I'll never forget it.

"Yes, I do, and all the more reason Callum shouldn't go. Imagine the calamity of it if Jacob gets the wrong idea."

"Eh, well, it's kind of too late. I'm sure nothing too bad will happen."

"Nothing _too _bad?" I picked up.

"Well, gotta go," she spoke so fast, it all came out sounding like one word. Before I could hold the conniving fiend, she'd hung up.

I could only sigh.

The next day after school, everyone shuffled and filed along the parking lot.

"Okay, transportation orders," Mike joked. "First of all, who needs a ride? I can take four, at least."

"Angela and I do," Ben answered.

"I have a ride and I can't just leave it out here, so I'll go on my own unless someone wants to ride with me," Callum offered.

"I'm good," Tyler said, "I got my own wheels with me, too. Lauren, you need a ride?"

She looked thrilled – more than thrilled – that he'd asked her. "Yes," she almost squeaked.

Everyone looked my way then. "Well, I have my truck."

"How about we drop it off at your place," Callum suggested and everyone looked at him, "And you can ride with me? I don't know the way around, anyway."

"She'll take it," Jessica said. I gave her a declaring glare. She only shrugged, smiling it off apologetically but unyielding.

"Great. That saved us one ride up, at least," Callum smiled. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, I guess not… anymore," I whispered the last word to myself.

"How about Jacob?" Angela inquired.

"He said he'll meet us up there. He's coming down from La Push."

"Well, then," Mike climaxed, "Let's do this! We'll meet you there, okay, Callum? You guys be careful."

"No problem. Thanks, man," Callum simply smiled.

I focused my eyes on the road, trying to ignore the car behind me – or more specifically, the man behind the wheel of the car behind me. When I did sneak a peek at him through my side mirror, he looked as though he was content in swaying his body to the beat of what I he might be listening to his radio. I've learned from Mike and Tyler's excitement that Callum's car was an Audi R8, whatever that was. Whatever it was, though, looked expensive, like him. I repressed my chuckle as he spotted me, both of us blushing at first – myself, because he caught me looking at him and him, because I'm guessing I caught him dancing, if you'd call _that _dancing – and then looking away. And I thought he was all composed and stuff… Ha. For some reason, the thought that he wasn't completely, kind of comforted me. Kind of. For some reason.

I rounded the corner to my street and easily parked my truck on my driveway. He parked along the sideway and rolled down the window. I'm guessing he was trying to take a better look at my historic home because he eyed it from roof to windows to doors to the poor and dying grass that made up all of Charlie's grand front yard. I grimaced at his observation.

"Just because you're bright and shiny doesn't mean you can look down on whatever's ramshackle," I blurted as I came reluctantly by his car.

He smiled as he leaned across the passenger seat and opened the door for me.

"No, it's quite nice," He murmured. It was surprising to hear the thoughtfulness in his voice, almost as though he didn't mean for me to hear that. I brushed the pointless thought aside easily.

"I never even bothered to ask," he said casually on our way to our destination, tracked by my directions, "Where are we going?"

"You mean, Jessica didn't tell you?"

He smiled, and I took it to mean that that was obviously the case. I rolled my eyes.

"Port Angeles. We're all just having some dinner, walking around, the works."

He chuckled. "Where from here?"

"Enter one-ten and exit through Sunpress Valley."

He swerved the car as gracefully as he walked and talked and stood and laughed and smiled. The car was at constant pace, neither fast nor slow, but it somehow felt cool. He had the heater on lightly, and I guessed it was for my benefit, seeing as he looked completely collected whereas I was shivering all over the place. Besides, he'd only turned it on once I got in his car at my house. Inside his car was a fresh, new aroma. It smelled of fine, organic fruits or flowers – or both. It was nothing I'd ever smelled before. It calmed me down immediately and I rested my head against his dark grey, leather head post. His car was neat, very clean. The seats were smooth leather and his wheel was covered with a deep red fabric. The windows were intensely tinted. It was almost impossible to see outside.

"Something wrong?" He surprised me, shifting me out of my calm thoughts immediately.

"No, actually," I muttered.

He smiled. "No, _actually_, as in… Actually, it's something _good_?"

"You're bold, aren't you." It was more a fact that a question.

He chuckled. "Bella, you're the one who's bold. Will you ever give me a break?"

"Well, since you've so politely neglected a break for me, I thought wouldn't be something you'd prefer for yourself, either."

"So I gave you the wrong—"

"Horrid."

He sighed. "Horrid – geez – first impression. What might I do to properly redeem myself in your standards?"

This got me. "Your statement – explain it."

"Statement?" He sounded curious enough.

"What should I need time for?"

"Oh, that."

"Yup."

He glanced at me briefly, a smile plastered softly on his face. I struggled to keep my cheeks in check of pinkish runaways.

"From whatever's bothering you."

That wasn't what I was expecting – not that I was expecting anything in particular, but that wouldn't have been a guess at all.

"What do you mean?"

"You're so enclosed. You're fine with your friends, but one look away and you're a completely different person."

"You're saying I'm a fluke?"

"No, but—"

"Besides, how would you know that? When you said that, it's only been a period since we met, and I doubt you could figure me out at such a short time, even given the two days you've been here."

"Ah, but it seems I've hit a nerve. Even in class, the way your foreheads creased and your eyebrows met, and all the sleepless nights—"

"Now how would _you _know that? IF that was the case?" I was getting frustrated with his half-stories.

"Come on, now. You're so tired. Oh, but I guess full nights of sleep amount to an exhausted day at school, right?"

I grimaced. "Don't think you know me."

"No," he said simply, and then he gazed at me – almost intently, almost friendly, almost softly. "I'm hoping that I will."

I didn't talk after that, and neither did he. What could I say? I didn't want him to know me, anything about me. In fear that he might find something I didn't want to know about myself, perhaps. In fear that he might find something at all when I so hated his guts, perhaps. In fear I might end up letting him… definitely.

**_hi again. :) well, that's chapter 2! and chapter 3 will be up soon. i'm hoping you guys are enjoying reading it as much as i am, writing it. but remember, this is still an edward/bella pairing. a triangle, my favorite. :)_**


	3. Lucky

**All for Me, to Me, You Sue  
**Chapter 3: Lucky

I was surprised by his etiquette behavior. After having perfectly parked at a convenient space, he quickly got out of his car and before I knew it, stood by my door to open it for me. I didn't even have time to blink, much less excuse his gesture. So I took his hand. This made him smile, but I still had the feeling that he would have done the same had I not done so. As he was helping me out of his car, I tried to shake the thought of what that might have looked like in the public eye.

'_Stupid, ugh,' _I thought to myself. If any of our friends saw this—

And then I heard the giggles and felt the stares.

"I see you two were, in fact, quite careful," Mike smirked.

I glared and became satisfied that it at least wiped his smirk away.

"Shut up, it's isn't like that," I snorted at them angrily – or at least as angrily as I could manage, what with actual embarrassment creeping into me like the sneaky little snake it is. I turned away quickly before it had the chance to reach my cheeks.

"Oh," Jessica made the word slide. "Really?" Her eyes were playfully suggesting something, and I realized that she was looking down at my and Callum's linked hands. I rolled my eyes and snapped my hand away. Did I say snapped it away? I mean, tried to snap it away – the fool's got a hard freaking grip. It was neither violent, nor did it hurt, but it held me collectively. I wondered then if it was me who was suppressing my own strength, not that he was suddenly green and incredible. Everyone giggled. The worst part was that one of them was Callum, his free hand lifting to rest at the back of his head again, like he did in English class when he'd roared in laughter out loud. I was beginning to think he does it whenever something mildly embarrassing – to his own, personal standards – happens to him. Something about that just about made me smile up at him, but I resisted it before he caught me, and he's good as a fisher at catching me.

Just then, I heard a familiar, wild greeting from behind my group of friends.

"Bella!"

"Jake!" I called, much easily slipping my hand from Callum's now as I ran to greet my best friend.

He picked me up effortlessly in a tight hug, his right hand gripping the back of my head while the other circled around my waist, where I assumed he was holding me up by. I could feel the hot air from his mouth against my neck as he held me closely, a feeling that is so familiar and so desired by me – Jake has really been an important factor as to why I am still whole, when I should be scattered broken on the floor. He let me down slowly, still gazing warmly at my eyes.

"Bella, I've missed you," he said softly, as though unaware of the audience we had.

I, on the other hand, was pretty aware and I knew that no set of eyes left us once since the moment he picked me up off the ground to hug me. But I could care less.

"I missed _you_, Jacob," I smiled at him. I really did miss him, and that was while knowing the fact that we hadn't been without each other for more than four days. That was long enough for me. I needed him to keep me from tearing myself into pieces – and keeping my very life.

I heard someone cough, though I wasn't sure who it was. It sounded like a male, but again, I couldn't be sure. Jacob and I instinctively tore apart from each other, his hand steady around my waist all the while.

Jessica rolled her eyes, but she smiled at me comfortingly as though to say she couldn't help it. I knew she was distinctly aware of how much my recover was due to Jacob, and how that rescued our own friendship from completely crumbling over.

"Come on up, you guys," Mike called, "It's beginning to get crowded."

"Plus, I can smell the food already," Tyler drooled, with Lauren drooling at _him_ beside him. She grimaced when he quickened his pace, leaving her by herself.

I felt Jacob's hand slide from my waist to capture my hand in his gently – a completely regular routine – and I smiled at him in encouragement. Beside me, a figure passed by me in a swift and driven manner. Callum. I'd almost forgotten he was there. Seeing him then, I suddenly felt a strange thump in my chest. He didn't even look at me, and yet he was so casually friendly with the others as they all went inside together.

"Come on, Bells, Jacob," Angela beckoned, Ben loyally at her side.

Dinner was delightful. Instead of individual meals, everyone decided to share three large pizzas, each one divided into two kinds of toppings, totaling in six, even. Mike, Tyler, and Ben ate… uh, healthily, while Lauren, Jessica, Angela, and I settled for a single slice or two. We all fell into local conversation before it turned educational until it turned to social gossiping, though the most active participants were Lauren, Jessica, Callum, and Mike, while Tyler and Ben simply gormandized. This is how I've always liked it, though. It was open, within a breezy atmosphere and natural crowd, and I didn't need to say one word. Jake kept me occupied most of the time when I chose not to participate in a certain topic, like the gossip one, and he and I relaxed into our own private chat.

"You'll never guess what I did for you," he blurted.

I thought for a second, sinking back into his excited eyes. I was so used to him being this way, so smug and proud, so warm and solidly cheerful. And then my eyes widened in shock and shared the excitement of his eyes instantly.

"Jake, you didn't—Oh, my—My bike?"

"Yes," he nodded fervently, "You should come by to see it!"

"Oh, I will, Jake! Thank you," I kissed him softly on the cheek and I felt his hands hold me by my arms as I did so.

I gazed at him for a while. His eyes were passionate as they planted themselves on mine. His love spiraled in all directions, and my heart ached at its unrequited fate. He knew this, however, and yet he still amends what I lack in want with how much I need him. I could never amount in debt how much I owed him. For a long time, he was all I needed – My Jacob.

"And so, Bella," someone began, "Will you riding with me home again, or…?" It was Callum, and his eyes shifted to Jacob as though that would finish his sentence. He spoke politely with an effortless smile, but his eyes were distant and blank. The sudden shift triggered a thought in me. Perhaps, I'd been wrong. Was it possible that I worried about the wrong person – that their attendance together impinged Callum more than it did Jacob? Had that been why he'd suddenly changed his mood when Jacob arrived earlier that evening? And the biggest question – Why?

"Um, yes," I found myself answering, "Yeah, I'll ride with you."

Jacob eyed us both, but this time, my eyes were set upon Callum's. He smiled and then simply looked away, nonchalantly throwing himself back to the others' conversation.

"By the way, who is he?" Jacob muttered next to me.

"New guy. His name's Callum."

"And he's already giving you free rides to places?"

"Easy, cowboy. He only offered a ride with him here, to save transportation and all. It's only natural I let him bring me home, too, Jake."

"Yeah, well… Okay," he sighed in defeat.

We both awkwardly placed ourselves in the conversation after that, uncertain of what more to say.

"And did you see her hair? It's completely bleached. Strawberry blonde, too!" Jessica was exclaiming.

I've heard this one before, about a girl named Megan Scott. She's in my English class, my Calculus class with Jessica, and finally, Spanish 2, so I knew her quite well. I figured that the center of their conversation was based on her 'transformation' as they'd called it. At the beginning of the year, Megan had dull, midnight curls that hung until the tip of her tailbone. She wasn't unattractive – and especially now after the 'transformation' – but she sure hid her face well. She was always bowing down, though her features were polite. I've always thought she was just shy. Her grades were average, and she wasn't exactly plain in taste, either. She just never wanted to stick out. To be honest, until word about her started getting out, I barely noticed her myself. Until after Winter Break, when gossip flooded the campus like wildfire. Turned out that her step-father acquired her a career in the modeling agency for a winter catalogue. They'd decided to keep her after that, and she was suddenly the new _role _model of town, as well. She came to school on the assigned date with her hair chopped a charming length around shoulders, bleached strawberry blonde with a hint of sandy patterns at random spaces in her hair. Her make-up was outrageous – outrageously flawless, as was she. Her clothes has also enchanted everyone since that first day. She looked… neat. I think that's the word I was looking for. With a slender body – only meaty at places it looked good at – and a tall frame, she became a full-figured character from a children's story book. Like Cinderella or even Aurora.

"Oh, yeah," Mike agreed, "She's fi—" And then I heard a thump beneath the table, followed by Mike's innocent, "What did I do?"

"It's impressive," Lauren commented, although there was a mild resentment in her voice – I knew, all to well, in fact.

"She's also altogether sweet," Angela said angelically, "She frequently helps me with Spanish."

"Perfection?" asked Tyler forwardly.

"Sounds like it," sighed Jessica. She doesn't like it, but she's not one for the story-book denials, either. If the girl's made out to be the princess, let her be the princess. I think a role as an evil step sister would do Jessica just fine, and I knew she wouldn't mind that, either. I chuckled lightly to myself at the thought. And to think, I'd probably be the Gus-Gus of the story. I chuckled again, and I felt a tighter nudge against my shoulder.

Jacob was still holding me, and I looked up at him to see his curious eyes on me. I understood in half a second – okay, _minute_.

"Oh, it's nothing. It's silly," I giggled.

"I can tell," he smiled, "Like you, Bella."

I smiled at him kindly, but something about the atmosphere at that exact second hardened, and my smile suddenly felt compelled to melt away.

"You two are close," Callum observed on our way home. He insisted that he had successfully memorized the full way back and therefore refused my directions.

I knew exactly who he was talking about. "Jacob's my very best friend."

"And what has he done – or who has he killed – in order to acquire such a difficult title?"

"Ha-Ha," I returned his sarcasm, "He's just done a lot for me."

"An hour from home," he smiled as he glanced at me briefly, "Remember."

I sighed. I inhaled, mentally and physically, as I began.

"There was a time in which I… fell into, well, depression, really. And that's the light way of saying it," I glanced at him for a reaction to my public "secret", but I read no meaningful expression on his face – just solid beauty and tranquility as he watched the road ahead of him. I turned my head back on the road, as well. If not from me, I'm sure he'll be able to find out from somebody else easily – the downside of Jessica's friendship.

"It was last autumn, just around the beginning of the school year. Tragedy befell on me and I've never felt so alone. Skipping way ahead, past all my emotional nonsense that even I am not quite sure enough about to explain, my dad insisted that we visit old friends one day at La Push. There, I reunited with my friend, Jacob, who I admit I hadn't really known much about before that time. Nevertheless, he smiled at me when I needed it most – he smiled at me when I frowned and cried and whined and, whatever and all that I did. Through it all, he smiled – not just smiled, but _at _me. As though in his sick little mind, I deserved it. I spent most of my time with him from there. He showered me with optimism and care. I remember," I chuckled at the thought of it, "I remember having slipped a plate while helping him with the dishes. I felt horrible, but he'd only looked at me and said, 'Well, now, Bella, that's cruel. Why didn't you bother to break them all so that I may be freed from the nightmare of my dad's dishes? He's home all day, eating and whatnot, and leaves his rotten work to me, the kid of the handicapped man.' And then smiled, kissing my forehead. Always kissing my forehead, holding my hands… When really, he'd held me _together_. He recently endured through a motorcycle I bugged him for," I exclaimed in excitement, "and I can't wait to ride it. Life is often an undefined thrill with Jacob." I heard myself fade to a whisper, and then to a stop. How long and how much had I babbled on?

"He means a lot to you," he simply said.

"You're quite observant."

He chuckled. "No, really. He does, and honestly, it's making me feel, well, maimed."

"I'm making you feel lame?"

"Technically not. He is."

"Why is that?"

"You're quite unobservant."

"I observed that much about myself, thank you very much."

He chuckled again – a beautiful chuckle, might I add.

"I'm just saying," he smiled at me sweetly, "He's a lucky guy."

"Where do you get this stuff?"

"Your eyes."

"Time, eyes… You're quite something, Callum Chandler."

He only chuckled once more.

"So what is about my eyes this time?" I pushed.

"Oh, well, only the way they smelled and felt him up. Totally alighted your care toward him."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, so how did they _look _at him? Geez."

"Impeccably."

I only laughed – wholeheartedly, honestly. "Okay, Callum Chandler. Impeccably, it is."

He smiled then – an impeccable smile.

* * *

**_And there goes chapter 3! I have no specific limit or preference toward the length of each chapter - I only go by when it seems right for me to stop. Sorry if this was too short, though. Chapter 4 will be up soon. I hope you guys are eager for it, as I am to write it. :) As usual. R&R._**


	4. Blank Confessions

**All for Me, to Me, You Sue  
**Chapter 4: Blank Confessions

* * *

I was surprised by the turn of our conversation. After having released a bit of ease, I found myself laughing more and more – _found_, as in, I had nothing to do with it. He's incredibly easy to talk with and almost impossible to work with. Without permission, he just kept ruining it all for me. He ruined my composure, shattered my resistance, erased my reluctance – and all in such a facile manner, like he was only breaking a toothpick. I was strangely comfortable… in an uncomfortable, disapproving way. A part of me reasoned that it was beyond me, while another admitted that I was enjoying this, therefore allowed myself to succumb to it. I buried that second part deep, deep within.

"You, in choir?" I chortled.

"My mother's big on music, alright? I was ten and defenseless," he defended now, a hint of pure yet suppressed humiliation painted on his face as he kept his eyes straight on the road, focusing more on it now. I could tell it wasn't more that he was focusing on the road than he was focusing on not looking at me.

"Alright, alright. Understandable," I gave him some slack.

"You're cruel, don't you know that?"

"And unfriendly and enclosed. Did I miss anything," I smirked. Why the heck was I smirking about that? Have I forgotten the obvious difference between simple insults and compliments?

"Impeccable," he added swiftly and then glanced at me as he grinned back.

"Oh, please. That hardly counts at all."

"And why is that?"

"Simple – calumny. Simply calumny."

"And unbreakably stubborn, I see."

"How about you?"

He grimaced. "What about me?"

"Profligate."

He laughed heartily. "Hardly, but I am curious about the pillars to that assumption."

"Oh, come on now. You fit yourself in a crowd like a Lego and as easily, too. You can't tell me you have no related experience."

"I do, but profligate? No," he chuckled. Unbreakable, my butt. That chuckle alone – and this whole trip, actually – is committing quite the opposing crime for me.

"I know," I thought with a bit of confidence, "Impossible."

He laughed harder this time. After 'impossible', I don't know what more I could conjure so that his laugh would be even more lively next time. I'm not about to be disheartened, not now.

"Oh, trust me. You're either very wrong or very correct."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to tell you," he grinned at me.

"And impolitic," I added to his list.

Another beautiful chuckle. "Impolitic, how?"

"Because, you said it yourself – I'm stubborn," I smiled.

"Yes," he hasn't even stopped chuckling, "You are," before he simply smiled at me. I returned it, telling myself it will only be just this once. "It won't be impossible for _you_ to figure it out."

"Because I'm a genius."

"No," he laughed, "God, no."

I glared at him coldly, but somewhere in my eyes, even I felt the playfulness of it.

He said something quietly to himself after that, but I let it go.

"That was fun," I heard him comment behind me, and I turned around to face him. I tried to keep myself from expressing any sign of just how stunning he was to me at that moment – or at any and every moment. He leaned his elbow casually by his window that he's rolled down completely. His eyes were friendly as they sat on mine with an elite, warm smile playing on his face. It was dark, and the interior of his car surrounding him would have made it difficult to see his face if not for the fair glimmer of the full moon above his head. Its beacon light showered his face, his luminescent, chrome yellow eyes dancing handsomely with the faint melody of the evening breeze.

I shrugged. "You're welcome to join us again next time," I offered.

"Bella," he smiled, "I'm talking about riding with you, to and from."

"Oh, please," I twirled around again, making sure he caught my eyes rolling before I did.

"Bella," he called once more.

I groaned as I twisted my neck so that I may face him one more time. "Yes, Callum?" I tried to sound annoyed.

He only smiled. "When will it be enough?" Another groan from me forced him to continue with a light chuckle. "When will it be enough until you can tell me all about it?"

It wasn't hard to guess what he was talking about and I needed no further clarification. "When it becomes enough for me to take it," I voiced steadily, thinking that would suffice.

"I can be patient, I think," Callum said softly. He was smiling, and right then, I knew his words were meant to comfort me in their own, strange way. And strangely, it worked.

"Curious," I commented, knowing he'd know what I'm talking about.

He smiled. "Guilty."

'_Time, huh?' _I smiled to myself.

I wondered if it was strange of _me _not to have found this boy as creepy as I think he would otherwise have rightfully justified for.

I took a hasty look at myself in the mirror. Fair-enough hair – untied and unleashed bestially around my neck and shoulders – plain face, topped with a dull, white blouse that flowed freely in soft ruffles at the bottom, and skinny tight, black jeans. I sighed as I shifted my eyes out the window. The skies bore a light grey color but it was otherwise a friendly weather. Without another look at the mirror, I grabbed my backpack off my computer chair and paced my way downstairs for a quick grab-and-go breakfast before heading out and onto my truck.

I easily spotted the silver Audi. It wasn't hard to miss, what with its utter brilliance amongst the other cars around. Forks doesn't have a car dealership, much less a car dealership that has _that_.

"Good morning," Callum greeted with a smile as I came by, automatically twisting himself to my direction.

I groaned.

"What did I do," he asked, his eyebrows already kneaded together in a neat – okay, kind of adorable – way.

"Huh? Oh, no, it's not you. Just tired," I reassured him.

"Didn't you get plenty of sleep last night? You shouldn't think of me so much, Bella, if that'll be the consequence."

"Very funny."

He smiled. "But really, what's wrong?"

"I just can't sleep, or I keep waking up when I do. Butt off," I groaned again.

"Curious," he reminded me, "And patient," he quickly added when I gave him a cold glare. His hands were up in the air, palms forward, as though in retreat – and defeat.

I sighed. "There are just a lot of things on my m—"

"Stop…," he interrupted, "Time, remember? Sometimes, it's the only thing that comes for free – the only thing we can really take advantage of. It takes, but it only gives. Just the same, it breaks and then heals, no matter how hopeless it seems." There was a distant expression in his eyes that developed as he spoke. His voice also became much softer, as though speaking from feeling – from experience. The next thing I knew, my hand was clutching his arm gently. Since when has this stupid thing been keeping its own personal life from me?

"Don't get all theatrical on me. I swear I'll beat you to the ground if any of it actually gets to me," I said with a hard tone. And then something weird happened… I smiled – _me. _

He smiled back at me, and the shock of my smiling altogether dissolved, glad it at least triggered his own in of all of its pathetic comparison.

Mike didn't take his time in jabbering his new sighting to Jessica, and she didn't take her time from making a big deal about it, either.

"Touching? There's touching? It's gotten that far?" she asked in excited amusement.

"Oh my goodness, Michael," I glared at him and he shrugged with a sly smirk. "Hardly, Jessica. It isn't even considered _going anywhere_, when there are no intentions of it. I was, well, sort of just comforting the guy."

"Oh, puh-lease," she sounded, "That is _the _oldest in the book!" And right then, I knew I had no chance in this conversation, so I simply rolled my eyes.

"Shh!" Mike whispered hastily toward Jessica, and I looked up to see Callum on his way to our table.

He sat down casually at his seat between Eric and Tyler – oh, yes, and in front of me, of course. From there, lunch was just a tick of a clock away. No specific topic was covered. It was all jokes and laughs today, which was honestly to my relief. I preferred it much more than when they start talking about particular things, like Megan Scott.

"Hey, check it out," Tyler said then. He was turned around in his seat, his arms still resting on the table as he held his sandwich greedily. I glanced upward, half knowing what to expect – speaking of which.

Megan Scott strolled delicately along the cafeteria as though it was a runway. Her steps were evidently following an invisible straight line on the ground without her having to look down to inspect it. Her hair was dyed charcoal black today, but it only made her features pop a lot more. Gold and brown eye shadows swirled and blended and perfected themselves around her stunning, green marble eyes and her lips were a shimmering, nude pink color. Her cheeks were almost bare, except for a light blush focused around her cheekbones. I watched her sit with a couple of friends, all of whom are completely ordinary people, especially sitting next to someone like Megan. In no time at all, she was smiling and laughing melodically with them.

I averted my gaze back at my table and noticed how all the girls were grunting… and all the guys, staring. Well, almost all of them. My eyes landed on a particular one right in front of me and found him resting coolly against his palm, his own eyes staring blandly – in that attractive, heavenly way – outside through the glass walls of the cafeteria. It was drizzling. When I'd shifted my eyes away after a quick second, I found him already looking at me. Though he wasn't smiling at first, he did once he caught me. In my majestic, grand defense, I stuck my tongue at him briefly before bowing my head low, pretending to be so engrossed on today's cafeteria menu – dry ham and cheese sandwiches.

Mike and Jessica had already begun fighting about the whole Megan issue before the bell rang.

"Don't lie to me, Mike, I saw you staring at her," she accused.

"Okay, unconsciously—"

"Great! That completely excuses it, Mike – makes up for it beyond belief and reason," she argued.

"Bella." Huh? How did I get into this?

"Bella." And I realized with a light blush that it wasn't either Mike or Jessica who was saying my name. I glanced around for my caller.

He chuckled. "Over here," Callum waved. "Interesting little thing," I heard him mutter to himself.

I rolled my eyes. "I was getting there. What?"

"Well, to be blunt—"

"Yes?" I interrupted impatiently.

Now it's his turn to roll his eyes. "'I was getting there.' Look, I was wondering if you'd be willing to accompany me over coffee tomorrow morning. It's Saturday, and I can pick you up."

I was shocked at his request – or whatever that was, exactly. Suddenly, I could no longer hear any shouting or arguing of any kind. I quickly looked over at Jessica, unsurprised when I saw her widening her eyes at me encouragingly. She was nodding her head, and for a while, she looked like a bobble head the way she insisted on it so much.

"I guess," I conceded. "Coffee," I clarified.

"Coffee," he agreed, and then smiled. "I'll pick you up then – tomorrow at, hm, eight?"

"Eight. Sure," I accepted. My obvious hesitation didn't seem to bother him as he continued to smile.

"Well, come on, you guys. We'll be late," Angela called. Her warm smile informed me of her friendly rescue once more. My hero.

Sure enough, at eight the next morning, the doorbell rang.

"Bella, I think it's for you," my dad called from downstairs. I heard him open the door, followed by muffled greetings, such, and whatnot.

I hurried to tie my untamed hair into the best ponytail my lack of expertise could manage in spite of the cold weather. I straightened out my outfit in front of the mirror – a lengthy, plain white tank, a brown sweater and a dark green winter coat over it, and jeans – and headed out the door.

"And who did you say your parents were?" my dad was asking.

"Um, Luke and Madison Chandler, sir," Callum answered politely.

"Ah," Charlie replied, with no further need to move on. As I came down into better view, I saw that there was a flood of confusion in his eyes, his eyebrows creased slightly. He stood when he caught sight of me and whatever was bothering him seemed to have been washed away.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Charlie greeted.

"Good morning, Bella," Callum repeated sweetly.

"Hi, hi," I grumbled. "Let's go already."

"Hasty, isn't she?" I heard Callum ask my dad.

"No, boy, just grumpy. It's no headline news," they chuckled together.

I rolled my eyes at them as I began heading out the door, but Callum was there before I could reach for the doorknob.

"I'll get that," he insisted and opened the door for me.

In our immediate view was the out-of-this-_uh_-town, silver vehicle. I heard a prolonged whistle behind me and I glanced back to see my dad adoring it, his eyes seeming to say it all: I approve. Another roll of my eyes. His car was as dark – and aromatic and strangely calming – as I'd last been in it.

He drove as smoothly as I remember, as well, in a direction I was foreign to. But he seemed to know exactly where he was going. After about half an hour on side streets, he swerved into a lane that which I was not familiar with, but was altogether pleasant. Small businesses flowered along the street – from flower shops to local pizza parlors, to nails and spas, to hair dressers, and other classical restaurants. We parked neatly in front of a café – Café Renée. I smiled at the name of my mother – how I miss that crazy old woman.

"You like it?" Callum asked as he offered his hand to me.

"Yes, actually," I giggled now, "My mother's name is Renée. Hardly a big deal, but—"

"Sure, it is," he smiled as I took his hand. He helped me out of the car in such a gentle manner, and I tried to reason with myself, convincing it to believe that that was the sole reason as to why my heart lost a beat at that moment when he wrapped his arm around my waist to guide me from the car.

Inside the café was an old-fashioned layout. Rusty gold and brown wallpaper covered the entire room with wide frames of historic places and events scattered on it randomly. Old newspaper clippings were stapled as a border where the wall meets the ceiling, where circling fans hang. Wooden, coffee tables besieged the room. A soft, country music played contently in the background and a sweet gingery smell mixed perfectly with the scent of coffee as they danced in the air. It was warm here, and not only that, but everything felt uncannily comforting. It was entirely… _me_, I think is the word.

Callum seemed to notice this. He smiled as he gestured his hand over to an available seat, not that there were many customers at this time, at this place.

"Callum," I started when we were seated down, "This is nice."

He chuckled. "That sounds more like you're saying it's shocking. Perhaps, that I even knew about a place like this?"

"Obviously," I half-joked.

He smiled this time, now glancing at the place thoughtfully. "I've known about it for a while."

"A while? But didn't you just—"

"Yes, I just arrived… back," he admitted, almost reluctantly.

"What do you mean, exactly?"

"It's not my first time in Forks," he smiled, "I've been here before… um, actually, _lived _here before."

I felt my eyes widen in spite of me. "You lived in Forks?"

"Um, only for a while."

"Well, I guess that would explain why Charlie doesn't know about you yet. Usually, Forks is too small a town for secrets and strangers."

"Yeah," he agreed just as someone came by to take our orders.

"And what would you youngsters like this morning?" she asked nicely.

Callum looked at me to go first. "Um, just hazelnut coffee, please, sweetened."

She glanced at Callum for his. "I'd like to have black, English tea, please, unsweetened."

She merely nodded before walking off.

"Impressive," I commented. "Too fancy for me to have the slightest clue about, yes, but, you know, nevertheless."

He chuckled. "England was also part of a past."

"Honestly? Then why on Earth are you back at Forks? I mean, England!" I exclaimed. What I wouldn't give to travel that far? But then again, what I wouldn't give and do and say to stay here at Forks…

"I like it here. For me, this is where it feels like home," he simply replied.

"So then your parents must have found jobs around here, right? I'm surprised Charlie doesn't know about it yet…"

By then, the waitress came by to deliver our drinks. I held it firmly in my hands, absorbing its heat through my palms as it washes away the cold from them. I sighed as I began to feel it climbing down my body, outlining me in warmth. I've always loved the smell of hazelnut coffee. Sometimes, I'd make some for myself just for the sake of it. It was my grandmother's favorite and she made sure when I was younger than it would be mine, too. I twirled my table spoon around it almost unconsciously.

"My parents died."

I froze and all the warmth vanished from me in no less than a second. Icy particles seeped through my skin and I couldn't tell whether that was the reason why the hair on my stood, or if it was because of something else – chills, maybe.

"They're what…? But you told Charlie—"

"That my parents' names are Madison and Luke."

My mind was beginning to scramble, unsure of both what to say and where to start. "So who's—? How—? When did—?"

He chuckled lightly. "Would you like a second, Bella?"

I slowly nodded my head unconsciously before realizing it – fortunately not too late – and quickly shook my head no more surely.

Callum smiled. "I was eighteen… er, around Thanksgiving last year. We were in England for a traditional family visit at my Uncle Leon's house. On our way to the airport to head back home, we encountered ill-intended vagabonds – um, nomadic, unsettled people – who demanded huge sums from us. They commanded that my father step out of the car and he whispered that I stay with my mother before obeying. My father acted without hesitation, determined to steer my mother and I from the situation as quickly as possible. He collected all our valuables. His eyes were brave, I remember, and he presented himself just as well. He was a respectful man, and respected in return by others.

The bastards turned to leave right after, but they hadn't intended to leave witnesses alive. My mother shrieked at the gunshots and her arms reached desperately for me in the backseat. I screamed for her – for my mother's safety. Her arms never did reach me as the third gunshot pierced the air. She became incredibly still after that and eventually, her arms dropped numbly with her body. After that, all I could remember was screaming at the sight of my mother's lifeless body and closing my eyes shut from the scene.

The next time they opened, I was in a hospital. My uncle took me in and offered me a home without a moment's thought – along with protection, care, and an identity. I was unharmed from the crime, but not a day went by in which he didn't try to ensure my safety as best as he could – from anything and everything that could possibly make that otherwise. In spite of all that, however, I felt I needed to help myself, as well. And here I am now, trying to walk the future with the glory of the past." He smiled in poorly disguised melancholy, his eyes intent on something on the table.

Without thinking, I reached for his hand, enfolding it securely around my own two. I felt a light strain on my forehead, and I realized I must have my eyebrows pulled together again – though this time, it was far from the reason they normally are with him; this time, it was of concern.

He chuckled softly. "Oh, no, please don't," he pleaded with a gentle yet evidently sad smile. But he gripped my hands with his free other, anyway, and bowed his head slowly as he wept.

"His name was Edward," I whispered. A frosty zephyr waltzed across my face and through the trees as they swayed almost beautifully around us. The forests in Forks were like fresh, spring grass for residential bugs – which in this case, we were the bugs. Everything was green and moist. It delivered winds as fresh and pure as its very existence and a smell as vibrant and as calming as both. Small, crackling noises whined under our feet against the old pavement path. We traipsed contently along the forest – contently and uncaring.

Callum had parked neatly in the driveway in place of Charlie's cruiser to drop me home right after the promised coffee – only coffee – but I surprised him – and myself – by asking if he'd mind a troll through the forest instead of parting.

"Is this the part where you kill me?" he'd asked.

"Mm, tempting," I contemplated.

"Hey, now, I wasn't serious," he almost sounded worried.

I chuckled as I began to walk ahead – half-expecting, half-knowing, half-_wanting_ him to follow.

He carried his eyes to my face now and without having to glance up, I knew they bore curiosity to my sudden choice of words.

I didn't bother to lay out the details, knowing he'd be able to pick themselves up on his own. "He left me, unwarned, last year." I chuckled with little heart into it. "Actually, he'd taken me up right here in this very place to tell me goodbye – to tell me that… he no longer cared. He doesn't love me, not anymore. I— What was I supposed to do? I guess I knew— God, I knew…," I heard myself beginning to pant and I blinked the threatening tears away.

"Not once have I endured a night without him there, seeming to bid my life to be so fragile, because even now… Even now, I dream of him, only him. I dream of that menacing day, only in such lovely terms. And that—that's what—," and with that, I let them flow, "That's what hurts the most. I wanted nothing more, never wanted anyone nearly as much. I fooled myself, you know… Perhaps, I thought, if I tried hard enough, I would be enough, eventually; I'll suffice – perhaps love was enough, it had to be. But eventually came to pass and greeted me with goodbye. It was so impatient, so anxious. It tore me apart and for a while, that's exactly how I felt. Separated from my heart and denied feeling, separated from my mind and refused thinking, separated from my soul and kept from living. From there, I told myself I will – I _will_, for every moment he _didn't_." I felt a crowded weight under my eyes as I narrowed my eyes to keep my tears from escaping. My lips quivered invisibly against the agonizing flashbacks that now strolled inside my head.

I felt a warm hand graze mine and an automatic heat seized my body helplessly. I shot my gaze at Callum and found him peering at me gently.

"Does this comfort you?" he inquired. His voice was dripping with such pristine sincerity, sprinkled with tiny dabs of hope and concern.

It was irrevocably difficult to tear my eyes from his captivating, liquefied golden orbs. I felt a heinous sense of relief at the way he irritably knew exactly what I needed – not much. I neither wanted him to pry nor to sit back and nod at the misfortunes of my tinted little world. How could he have possibly rendered my defense transparent? My words lost their way outside my mouth as my heart failed to follow its consistent rhythm at that very instant. I knew I neither wanted to believe, nor disbelieve his actuality. More than anything, I'd hate to tell him the truth. This mysterious, gorgeous stranger – and this foolish, dazed heart of mine, still knocking animatedly against my bruised chest. Frustration permeated my body as I blanked. His eyes drained my mind of reason, just as they do my breath. Finally, I glanced down sideways in shame toward myself.

And I eagerly entangled my hand in his in response.

**_Yes yes, I know. It's been almost three days, but here's chapter 4. For the next few days, we'll be up and moving to a new house and I'm still unsure when we'll be able to set everything well enough for me to write again. Hopefully, my laptop will do. I'm looking forward to continuing, and I hope you guys are enjoying it so far in return! Sorry if the next one takes a little longer, but I'm also hoping to get a new chapter out before they move the computer. :) See you guys around_**


	5. On Gambles

**All for Me, to Me, You Sue  
**Chapter 5: On Gambles

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"Well, um," Callum was saying, "I guess thanks… for, uh, holding off on the crime today."

We were back in front of my house, still silently entangled within the stories that each changed us entirely. I still wasn't sure whether it was because we felt a little uncomfortable to mention anything more than what has already been shed, or if it because we simply felt _that _comfortable – if that made sense. But then again, a lot of things have failed to make sense around Callum. I can't honestly say I was much into that about him, but there's still something else – something I can't quite put my finger on – that's drawing me to him. As irritating as that was, somehow, I still felt secure. He was quite unlike anybody I've ever met, that's for sure. Sure it wasn't always in the best of ways, but aside from our occasional quirks and slight grips on our insanity around each other, he was altogether manageable.

"It's a difficult choice between all of my father's equipments. I'm kind of liking the sound of a bazooka or a 50-caliber assault rifle," I smiled innocently, "I won't push your patience, though, don't worry."

"How very thoughtful of you, Bella," he complimented, "It's really like you to plod along my demise."

"Impressive, yes?"

He chuckled, unknowingly putting the sweet sounds of the wind to shame. "Something like that."

I laughed with him as I smacked him on the shoulder. His shoulder was tough and it almost hurt my hand.

Finally, he just smiled. "Thank you for today. It was endearing."

Where else do you find adolescent, teenage boys using the word _endearing _like it was the word _chill_? I returned his smile.

"As it was for me. I still really hate you for gutting it out of me, though."

He chuckled. "How may I make up for it?"

"You already have."

He looked surprised, but it was all in his eyes. His eyes were so expressive, and yet so mysterious at the same time. He tilted his head just slightly to express his question.

"By listening," I answered, almost shyly. "You know, it helped."

He was stunned for a moment and he was quiet for just a second too long. Finally, his lips slowly curved into a gorgeous smile – neither exaggerated nor plain. It was simply breathtaking. Warmth lingered in his eyes now and it seemed to radiate itself within me.

"Just a little bit," I quickly added before my cheeks unveil my thoughts.

"Nevertheless, right?" he said with a smile as he began slipping into his car. He rolled down his heavily tinted window for me.

"I told you before how you needed time, but I wish I had some way of telling you how precious time with you could be. Thanks again for sparing some with me," he said – straight to my heart.

"Y—Yeah." _Yeah_? Was that honestly the best my mind could come up with? Shoot me.

He smiled before driving away, and then he was gone as swiftly as he'd come.

"So, what's going on with this Conner dude?" Jacob asked the next morning.

Every Sunday was "Becob" day, our ever-so informal name for our routinely time together. This Sunday, we've decided upon settling in his garage, otherwise known to be our little haven away from everything else but the two of us. This was where I found my new life, with this very same boy by my side. Too many fond and difficult memories alike lingered in this place, but I cherished them all. Nothing and nowhere was as comfortable for me as being here, doing whatever he and I could come up. Spontaneity was an addiction for both of us, and we enjoyed anything that proved its thrill.

I sighed softly at his inevitable question, but I wouldn't complain. Jacob was my best friend and the boy whose care for me has done me nothing but all the good in the world. I knew that he felt deeply for me – there isn't a second of our time when he didn't make sure I was well reminded of that. He was always one to understand me, no matter what bizarre things I tend to involve myself with; he was just a little protective in the subject of men, and I couldn't blame him for that. Aside from a man having brought me to the brink of my existence once, there was also that part of him that was more selfish, and I can't say I'd ever think to change Jake in any way.

"Callum," I corrected, "And nothing's going on between us."

"Yet," he grunted.

I smiled and took a seat on an old stool behind him while he waxed our new bikes – another one of our ideas that would have cut Charlie's remaining lifetime in half if he ever had a clue about it. I casually snaked my arms around him affectionately, gently placing my chin against his right shoulder.

"My bestest friend in the world shouldn't be worried about that," I assured him.

"I'm not speaking from a best friend point of view. I get stingy in sight of some competition. I'm capable of that, you know, Bella?"

I giggled softly. "What do I do with you?" I whispered as I held him closer, closing my eyes in silent contentment.

I heard him slip his gloves off before planting his hand against my shoulder, gently pulling me closer to him as he tilted his cheek against my forehead.

"Come on," he spoke after a while, "I want to show you something."

"Where?"

He smiled – the cheerful smile that I love, that saved me. "Are you coming or not?" He got up slowly to leave, being careful as he slid out of my arms.

"Of course, I am," I stood anxiously. _Of course_. I'll go anywhere with Jacob.

Riding with him on the back of his new bike felt like moving with the current of the wind. Jacob really loved mobility and I found myself along the lines of it right there with him. He took me riding with him by the freeway overlooking the wavy ocean. The weather was nice today – as nice as it came in Forks. The clouds were dominating the skies, but no sign of a single raindrop was apparent. I held on tightly around his waist, and when we were on a straight road, I'd feel his hand grazing mine while he drove the two-wheeled vehicle one-handedly. Resting my cheek against his back, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the friendly, cool breeze that raced us, its panting a smooth whooshing sound next to us. And for that lasting moment, my mind was blanketed from all my troubles, seeming to scatter it behind us as Jacob accelerated.

"You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?" I teased him when we got back. He offered to walk me to my truck as always instead of simply waving me away.

"What do you mean?"

"Taking me riding and all," I smiled, "You really are a good – No, the best – friend I could ever have, Jacob."

"Or I just really loved having you hold onto me like that," he teased back, though I knew he knew what he was doing for me.

I chuckled. "There's no need for that for me to hold you. You know that."

He stepped closer to so that we were almost just noses apart. Slowly, his hands rose against my waist, holding me still in front of him.

"Do I?" he asked playfully, but his eyes revealed his most sincere desires. I smiled on the inside, knowing he meant well by trying to respect his known boundaries.

"Looks like it," I motioned over to his hands.

He blushed lightly, but kept his hands on my waist. I slithered my arms around him. "Thanks, as always."

And he circled me in his arms. "Anytime." He kissed me tenderly on my forehead before sending me home reluctantly.

"Alright, bets on who takes who to the "My Valentine" Dance are officially open!" Mike announced at our table the next day. Typical him.

Tyler chortled. "Oh, man, that's easy. Ten bucks on Vanessa and Alex."

"That's too easy," Jessica complained, "I've got ten on Dylan and Stephanie. They've been eyeing each other since day one in Government."

"No, no," Mike challenged, "I say twenty on Dylan and _Mikaela._"

Tyler laughed and bumped knuckles with Mike. "Nice, dude."

Jessica rolled her eyes, "Make that thirty on Dylan and Stephanie."

_Ooh_ing noises filled the table as the couple went back and forth at each other. They compliment each other, really.

"So, any other bets? Bella?"

"None for me; I'm not going."

"Oh, come on! You already missed Winter Ball," Jessica groaned.

"Yeah, you have to come, this once," Mike urged on. "It'll be so much more fun with all of us there. We can do something fun afterwards, too!"

"Yeah, that's a great idea," Jessica smiled at her boyfriend and he grinned at her smugly.

I shrugged unsurely. "I'll join you guys after, but no dance for me. Are you going, Angela?" I asked as a distraction.

Angela blushed and nodded. "Mhmm, Ben had asked on Saturday."

"Did he?" I saw Ben blush deeply next to her.

"Nuh-uh, don't go thinking you can change the subject that easily," Jessica nudged. "Come on, please?"

"I really don't—"

I was interrupted by a light tap on the center of the table. A pale, large hand sat atop a fifty-dollar bill.

"On Bella and I."

Everybody glanced up, stunned, at Callum. I was one of them, but clearly the most stunned of all.

"You're not serious," I glared.

"Am so," he countered, meeting my eyes in finality.

I smirked. "Sixty otherwise."

"Done," he replied coolly with an unbelievably charming smile. I can't believe this jerk. Has he actually bet on my attendance with him at the dance – in front of me? Right to my face? There was something extremely wrong… about the way I find that so amusing. This should be fun.

We continued to stare at each other, his eyes unyielding. If it wasn't for the way that his neon yellow eyes held mine so intensely, I think it would have been safe to say that I'd have lost minutes ago. I finally perked my eyes to the others around me as soon as I felt their engaged looks upon us. Suddenly, Mike laughed.

"Oh, hell yeah," he exclaimed, "This is going to be one crazy gamble."

A note was passed onto me the next period and I looked around for a suspect. He didn't even try to hide it; Callum sat calmly with his cheek on his knuckles, his eyes playfully on mine as he smiled. I didn't break our contact until I've unfolded the note and glanced down to read it.

Red or white roses?

Unbelievable. I scribbled quickly before passing it back down, watching as it flitted crookedly across the room to him. He smiled at me before opening the note.

Your sixty bucks.

I watched him suppress a round of his heavenly laughter before folding the note once more. He fingered it inside his pocket before sinking back on his chair, his eyes too clearly amused as he focused his eyes on the lecture.

"So."

I jumped in startle when I heard my name. The sound had been so near from my ear that I felt the breath of whoever jerk it was, though I had a vivid guess on who it was. I turned around for the sake of confirming it.

"I'm not talking with you."

"Since when?" he asked in mocked surprise and horror.

"Since now."

"When?" he repeated, a smile pressuring his lips though he struggled against it. I see what he was trying to do, so I whipped away from his direction as I began fiddling with my keys – it wouldn't have been so hard (I only had two keys – one for my truck and the other, for Charlie's house) if I didn't feel so strangely nervous.

He smiled, clearly amused by my obvious lack of concentration. I wanted to die.

"So," he continued, ignoring my ignorance, "I was thinking if you'd so much as give me to chance to beguile you."

When I didn't answer, he continued on. "Bella, won't you please let me do this? You couldn't have hated my little stunt with the whole bet thing as—"

"Why wouldn't I—" I began but choked on my words quickly, crossing my arms across my chest on my driver's seat.

"Okay, so I did figure you'd react this way. But would you rather I've done it behind your back?"

Boy's got a point, but I held my ground.

"Anyway," he sighed, "Bella, let me escort you to the dance. If not, then—Then won't you come with me someplace else that night?"

That was something I didn't expect. What is it to him, anyway? He's obviously rich beyond reason, so I figured it wasn't cash he was after. Could he really be—No, it was impossible. He couldn't actually be in any way interested in me. It puzzled me now that he was making alternatives. I don't know if I should be scared out of my wits, creeped out of my mind, or break out of my shell and just accept that… that I want to accept. If not to the dance, then someplace else, as he said.

"I don't trust you," I decided to say.

He smirked, but his eyes lit up quietly. "You also said you're not talking to me."

I huffed. "Whatever."

"So," he began.

"So I'm giving you the chance to change my mind," I finished, and with that, I drove away, fearing that I might succumb against my will.

And so that evening, I was greeted with a delivery of a dozen roses – six white, six red, in grand courtesy of Mr. Callum Chandler.

* * *

**_And there you have it, chapter 5. I'm glad to have finished a chapter before we started moving things up and about, but it was kind of quick and quite short, so I'll try to butt in another chapter for you guys before the appointed date of my move. Won't you guys review, oh pretty please? Ex's & Oh's - handwritten_**


	6. Excuse the Excuses

**

* * *

**

**All for Me, to Me, You Sue  
**Chapter 6: Excuse the Excuses

* * *

I mumbled violently under my breath as I practically threw myself onto my seat next to him the next morning in English.

"Ah, I see you've delighted in them," the purpose of my wretched morning oh-so handsomely said as he handsomely smiled next to me. How very tempting that I break that face so that I may talk with him eye-to-eye – ordinary-girl-to-ordinary-boy – without forfeiting my frustration.

"Incurably," I barked in a hushed, sarcastic tone.

"What, you didn't like them? They were only flowers, Bella, not piranhas, though I suppose for a girl like you, those would have been more suitable," he kindly added.

I glared at him in response, thinking that was more than enough to express my mix of emotions toward his demeaning behavior.

"God, you're adorable when you glare," he smiled – all too affably.

"Ugh," I groaned, burying my face in the fold of my arms on the table, "God, leave me _alone_."

He snickered next to me and I dared take a peek at him – Damn these weak, impoverished, captivated, only-human eyes. His hand was balled into a loose fist, his elbow on the table as he touched his knuckles to his nose. A subdued chuckle still lingered around the curve of his lips, which bore their own, unique shade of pink. I once again lost myself in the sight of his features – it wasn't something you walk by to and find the will to continue walking, or at least, without successfully stumbling, hitting a lamp post or, you know, divorcing your husband and things like that. He was stunning, glorified by the consummate addition of his youthful charm. No doubt he's a prick, but somewhere deep within his eyes were mirrors to a thousand emotions, the biggest of which was his obvious perspective on life. His eyes spared him no lies, and yet innumerable secrets still loomed from deep within. That might be the cause to his second biggest: fear. I am still completely darkened by that one, however, and it seemed like he's trained his defense – that cheerful oblivion – well against those that may perhaps trigger it. The third was perhaps my favorite – warmth. Whenever he smiles, this was the force that enabled his eyes to smile with him. Whenever he talks, this was the passion that allowed for others to relate to him. This was perhaps what entangled me in his cobweb of emotions, in spite of his irritable nature. And that was only his eyes.

I didn't have time to obsess over every, faultless feature – they were all exactly that, faultless – what more can one say? – because he typically brought me back to reality with an easy remark.

"I think you're beautiful, too, Bella," he smiled teasingly.

I blushed, unable to control it, and smacked myself upside the head for it inwardly. How could I have let myself stare? Eyelids, hello? I could have cared less if I sat there, my head in his direction, so intent and so still, but with my eyes closed – if that was what it would take for me to have been spared out of this consequence. Biting my lip to keep from throwing a grenade of profanities, I tried to calm myself down. The guy was impossible! How could someone be so—so—?

"And when you smile – the rare times that you do – it really makes me feel like everything's going to be okay, like when the sun rises each morning… you know you're still alive, able to live another day," he almost merely breathed everything by how low and how gently he was speaking. He glanced up at my face – I can't imagine how I looked like, but I know this euthermic rush of such delicate feelings caressing my body most likely didn't deliver a demonic expression – and looked away almost immediately right after. I barely caught the glance itself. "Cause, well, you know, since you're so stingy about everything – I just figured something can't be so bad if you're smiling about it. Then again, you're kind of weird, too. So just—," he sighed and I knew he didn't intend to continue anymore. It took me a moment before I realized my eyes were still picking on him, so I shook them away with a bit of a struggle and I felt him ease up next to me.

So sweet, I inwardly finished my previous thoughts.

"Don't think you're fooling me," Jessica said against my ear.

It didn't take a lot to understand the mechanics of Jessica's mind. Everything about her was forward, no complications attached, so it was easy to guess what she'd meant. But that wasn't to say she's always correct. I peered at the board, leaning my face closer to my work as though to emphasize my focus.

"Oh, please, oh, please, won't you tell me?" she entreated, her voice low for the sake of the teacher, though her purpose was leaking from her eyes, screaming at her – at me.

"But there's not much to say," I admitted hesitantly. I honestly did not need more reminder about my growing fondness with Callum than I was already queasily aware. Deep down, I didn't want to admit it; I don't want to accept it. All those times I've spent cowering from the thought of it – of anything as amatory – only to be enamored by someone I've barely met, however different he was.

"Not much," she repeated and there was a challenge in her tone, "You like him, and you know it. And I know it, so won't you just admit it?"

"If you're so convinced, why the need to ask?"

"It's been so long, Bella – so long since you've gained color in your cheeks. You're always grumpy, but give me a little more credit, will you? I think it's safe to say I know you more than that – and that you're not much of a liar," she giggled. "So, please – pretty please?"

And, of course, she was right. If there should be anybody who notices that, it would have been Jessica. She was definitely the most observant when it comes to things like this, but more than that, she was a true friend, who truly cares. How could I possibly deny her any part of me when she asked for it, after all she's done for me?

I leaned toward her and she automatically drew closer to me, grinning happily at her success at making me so hopeless.

"A dozen roses so far, red and white."

She clasped her hand against her mouth to keep from squealing.

"Oh, Jess, I don't know how to feel. He confuses me… By making me feel so good, he confuses me," I spilled and from there, I knew I won't be able to stop. Jess knew this, too, and with a second to spare, she grabbed my hand, pulled me out of my seat, and scampered through the rows of desks and out the door after yelling a quick excuse to the teacher. It sounded something like, "It's an emergency. Blame's on me later!" but I couldn't be sure as I plunged into her open arms, my tears flying freely now.

She hushed me quietly, gently patting my head like a mother does when her daughter comes home with a broken heart.

"It hurts so much… God, it hurt so much," I whimpered. "It still—I still—," I struggled to let my words fade with each tear – with time – not wanting to hear the words that my heart can't deny.

I wrestled my way through the next set of periods before lunchtime finally came. I needed the company of friends, and when I needed friends, I _really _needed friends. A big fuss over Dylan and Stephanie – who are now officially at a couple's price for the dance – was at its climax when I arrived. Mike was whining, muttering something unnecessary as he pulled out his wallet. Tyler was laughing hysterically as Jessica grinned proudly. Lauren was giggling, too – sometimes I'm surprised by the way she was even capable of doing so, when she always gave me such a hard time – while Austin and Eric chuckled lightly along. Angela and Ben were giggling, too, with Ben's arms wrapped around her, her back to his chest. And then there was Callum, whose eyes I didn't miss, even when they turned quickly away from me the moment my eyes encountered them. But that was enough. Within that tiny second, I recognized the fiery, warm swirls deep within the physical magnificence of his eyes with what seemed to me like a fleck of concern.

"Callum!"

What was I doing? Have I lost my mind by coming here?

"Hey, wait up," my mouth continued to call. I'll have to remember to purchase some stitches, a zipper, and a humongous lock for it later. Oh, and a voice-activated code – let's see if it gets itself out of that one.

He paused and turned around to face me just as he was unlocking the door to his driver's seat. At first, he looked surprise but as soon as he caught sight of me, he quickly smirked, amusement crystallized in his eyes.

"Had a change of heart?" he asked nicely. By the tone of his voice, I can already guess that he knew my answer.

"Dream on," I replied.

"Then why are you stalking me for?"

"I followed you to the parking lot – that's hardly _stalking_."

"Spare your excuses for someone who _minds _being stalked by you," he smiled teasingly.

Why I ought to—

I rolled my eyes at him. "Hey, look, uh… What's bothering you?"

His eyes widened for a split second in surprise, another split second in what looked like sadness, before settling for amusement. It was hard to tell whether that acted as a mask for another kind of emotion, just as it is to figure out Callum altogether. There was something dark about him. Not necessarily evil, but still very mysterious. Had I been any other teenage girl and not being as, well, as abnormal as I am, I'd have defined it as – what's the word – _sexy_.

After lunch that afternoon, he walked with us routinely, but he was abnormally quiet – for him, anyway. Even in class the next period, he only stared outside the icy windows just as he had that first day he came back here to Forks. Came _back_. For some reason, it was still difficult to register that Callum had lived in Forks once before. I'm surprised Charlie was so in the dark about it. I'll have to remember to ask him about it later – maybe he'd remembered something by now.

"How long have you been looking at me to assume that?" he asked, his eyes finely entertained.

"Just forget it," I gave up, twisting around to walk away. I knew it – this had been such a bad idea. What was it to me had anything really bothered him? As far as I know, _he _bothers _me_, so this should have been out of the question. _Fool_, I told myself.

"Wait." And then a gentle, cold grip was upon my wrist. I turned my head to glance back at him, but even before I could, he somehow managed to pull me back in such a swift manner – I barely felt any movement until I realized that my back was against the side of his car. He hovered in front of me, his tall frame managing about a foot above my head. Though he left some open space between us, my stomach was still imbued with such a pleasant, fluttering feeling. I mentally tried to count how many times this boy had made me wish I was dead. Suddenly, I felt him trembling. It was so rigorous that you'd hardly notice he was if you weren't touching him. His eyes illustrated an endeavor that seemed to be proving laborious for him as he ogled down at me. It even looked as though his very eyes were trembling with the rest of his body.

"Callum," I whispered, my voice crooked and unsure.

He jumped slightly as though I'd just yelled at his ear from behind. But I whispered, here in front of him. With a single blink of an eye, he completely ceased to tremble and a deep, magenta blush sped to occupy his cheeks. He turned his face away from me completely, though his hand still held my wrist.

"I'm sorry…," he muttered.

"It's okay. I mean, it's fine, don't worry about it," I replied, almost too quickly. Nothing felt quite right. I wasn't used to this about him. He was often so certain about every word and every movement he spared. I waited to feel unease, but it never came. In its place was a flood of concern instead, like all I wanted was to assure him – make sure he's alright. And then I remembered…

I dusted myself off of all insecurities and polished my smile. I was surprised to find it didn't take as much effort as I'd calculated. It felt so natural to smile at him. I leaned my face marginally in front of him so that he may better catch my performance – darn fool better notice; I'm not doing this for nothing.

Finally, he shifted his eyes toward me. They were almost blank, except for a hint of surprise. Slowly – but worthwhile – his smile began to mirror mine, only his was flawless where mine was probably just a poor excuse for a smile. Just like that, I suddenly felt so silly for taking his word this morning. My smile couldn't possibly compare to the morning sun – what was I thinking? What was _he _thinking?

"You're so silly," he confirmed, now repressing a chuckle.

My smile faded as I snorted at him angrily. "And what are you? Appreciative, I see."

"No, no," he said quickly, "I am. Bella, honestly, thank you. That was just far from what I would have expected for you to do, to be honest."

Trust me, buddy, you weren't the only one who didn't expect that from me.

"Yeah, well," I scolded the blush I felt sneaking up on my cheeks, "Whatever."

He chuckled now and I felt his heart echoing with it. "Nevertheless, I'm afraid now I must have to recant my former belief; you aren't as enclosed as you let on, at least not so naturally."

"Of course not," I defended, "You're just special."

"In which way that you feel necessitated to be a bitch toward me?"

I grinned, "Aren't you bright?"

"Ah, a compliment to be cherished from you, Miss Swan," he bowed as though I've just given him pledge as a knight, smiling that indefectible smile.

I allowed a small laugh to escape my lips at his inanity. I noted a twinkle of amenity flash in his eyes as I did so, but perhaps my possessed mind was only inventing such extreme fantasies.

"Bella, would you like to grab something to drink with me?"

This set off guard, but I shouldn't have been so surprised – Callum was a master at that.

"Sure."

That completely set me off guard – no questions, no excuses.

"Alright," he enthused with a sweet smile, "Come on. Your choice or mine, I could go either way."

"You seem to have a knack at choices, so I'll honor you with the choice. But, Callum," I glanced down at our linked hands – with his able to circle around my wrist completely, just as it was doing exactly.

He followed my eyes and blushed, quickly letting me go. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I didn't notice."

"That's fine," I replied, but my voice cracked slightly at the end, surprised when I realized how I missed the strange warmth his shivery hands provided me with.

"So," he began once we're fixated in his car, "Entertain me. How did you ever arrive at the conclusion that something was bothering me all of a sudden?"

"No."

"No?" He laughed, "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean, no, I'm not going to entertain you with an answer."

"Why not?" he sounded too amused to sound hurt, like he was trying to sound.

"Because," I hesitated, "It's embarrassing."

"Mm, entertain me even more," he grinned, his eyes watching the road ahead of him.

"Callum," I groaned. He was being so difficult, as always. Persistent and as irresistible as he was, what made him think I'll succumb to satisfying his every curiosity? "No."

"Fine," he paused for a while before continuing, "But you were right."

I turned my head in his direction, my eyes enlarged with surprise at his confession. "Really?"

He nodded, looking as though he was biting his bottom lip from the inside of his mouth.

"Tell me why," I encouraged.

"No."

"Why not?"

He chuckled. "How has our previous conversation been reversed?"

A part of me knew that he asked purely to avoid the subject and distract me. Then I remembered what he had given me once: time. If it's his turn to require it, then he shall receive it from me. I simply smiled, letting it go as I giggled with him.

I laughed devoutly, reverberating throughout the vacuous room. Callum had taken me to Café Renée once more, which I'm silently thankful for. The place was even more vacant – therefore much quieter – in the afternoon, just the way I prefer it to be.

"Since you're so stingy about so many things, I thought I'd play it safe and bring you back here," he'd commented when we first arrived. I rolled my eyes, but otherwise smiled at him for the consideration toward my well-being.

"I don't believe you," I managed through hysterics now as we sat across from each other in our usual spot that previous Saturday.

"Because that's the absolute last thing I'd want you to do at my most embarrassing moment – distrust me," he said sarcastically, but neither of us had been able to wipe the smiles off our faces ever since we got into the topic of "our most … moments."

"I can't believe that _that _had been your most embarrassing moment. I'd barely noticed that you were dancing before you caught me through my side mirror," I reasoned.

"But it really was. Stop," he groaned as I continued to laugh, though he was repressing a chuckle of his own. The more I thought of that day when he'd escorted me home to drop off my truck at my house before going down to Port Angeles, the more I was unable to stop myself from rounding another set of laughter.

"Alright," he moved on, quickly for his sake, "How about this: the happiest moment of your life."

I felt my smile wither at the easiest, most difficult question I could ever answer. Something in my expression must have triggered a rapid understanding in him, because he suddenly gained a panicked expression – as panicked as his acutely perfected face could possibly manage – and began stumbling with his words.

"You know what, that's too typical and lame and stupid. How about, uh—"

"When Edward first told me he loved me." I smiled weakly at him in reassurance, knowing my eyes would give me away nevertheless, but still hoping it wouldn't.

"Bella…"

"It's alright, Callum," I strengthened my smile as much as I can, "It's all in the past."

"Perhaps… you're right…"

"What is it?" He looked as though he was struggling from adding something to his statement.

"No, it's nothing. I know it's such a typical thing to say, but," he peered at me, emphasizing every word he said after that with his flawless, golden twin suns, "he's missing out on such a precious girl."

I stared at him in amazement – or was it disbelief. His words bury such a deep hole somewhere in my chest, but instead of leaving it void, their meaning only flood it with such warm, extraordinary sensations. I wanted nothing more than to believe them – nothing more. His words felt so good, and his voice holds no crime. As impossible as they were – as much as I wanted to deny it and as much as I would have normally drove such words away without difficulty – he somehow emptied me of my defenses and had me accepting his words without my conscious permission. He made me feel… precious, indeed.

"Thank you for yet another eventful cup of tea," I voiced softly as we stopped by at the school parking lot where my gallant truck awaits. I wasn't surprised when it started raining heavily on our way back, for the sky's darkened shade veiled no secrets. It was only a matter of waiting for it throughout the day. Though it was well calefacient within his car, I knew it would only take a few seconds outside to make a giant ice cube out of me.

"You're welcome. As it was for me," he smiled, a factor that put his vehicle's heater to shame any day, anytime.

"Though you took it back for me, I'm beginning to think you're the one who's enclosed, Callum Chandler," I stated as I grinned at him confidently.

"Oh?" he smirked in amused curiosity. "And why is that?"

"There are such contradicting qualities about you. You're so elegant – deep – and also mysterious, but there are the more obvious ones when you're being immature, cruel, and utterly frustrating."

He laughed and it seemed to serve as music to the dancing beat of my heart. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess. Okay, I suppose that's understandably odd."

"And strangely, I like it," I admitted. He turned toward me, his eyes slightly dilated with surprise. "What?" I defended, "Since we've been so honest, anyway…"

And then his eyes slowly narrowed into deep, almond shapes that sheltered a lone emotion: warmth – my favorite. He didn't smile, but he didn't frown, either. It was an altogether pleasant sight, one that I can scan all day for any sort of flaw – however tiny – no matter how well I knew that it would have been futile.

"Well," I started when he didn't say anything after a while, "I might as well throw myself out there now before the rain becomes heavier – if that's possible." I allowed a fragment of a giggle to slide off my lips before opening the car door, but before I could even take a single step outside, Callum was by the door, his right hand serving as a brim above his forehead while his left reached out for mine. The shock of his agility subsided as I forfeited my hand in his, remembering how he's done it before – the guy was fast; big deal. His frosty hand sent suspicious splinters of heat to trickle against my hand as he began walking me over to my truck.

"Thank you," I mumbled, but as I tried to pull my hand from his, I found that his was firm against mine. And that was when I found his eyes just as firm against my own. The expression in his eyes hasn't changed since I admitted my strange fondness toward his odd personality in his car, except that they were more… intense, I think would be the right word for it. We were merely a foot apart, and once again, I found myself wondering if he was battling against something within himself as I felt his wild trembling. Perhaps it was the icy droplets that now marinated us angrily. All the same, my heart still reacted as violently at his gaze, his yellow eyes glowing in the shadows of the night. I was wholly captivated.

And so my growing desire – if it could possibly be – preempted all reasoning as I closed the distance between our blue and frigid lips. My free arm laid limp at my side as I silently took comfort in his hold against my other one. I hadn't noticed if I'd closed my eyes or if the dark had actually been that deep before, but I didn't care if I see anything or not, so long as I could continue to feel his lips against mine. And after a moment too long, he finally released my hand, strangling my waist with both his hands instead. He drew me closer by my hips, and I only too gladly – too eagerly – eliminated the remaining distance between us with a single step forward. My hands numbly hung themselves on his shoulders, and I held onto him as Callum pressed his lips acceptingly against mine.

Monstrous drops of rain, frozen winds, and the blackened skies hid the crime to which my heart was so pleasantly guilty.

* * *

**_YOUUU GUUYS. I'm just beyond words with my happiness right now. Not only was I able to keep my goal and present you guys with CHAPTER SIX, but I also recieved the most reviews I've gotten so far within a chapter. I know it's not much, but it's something, and I am writing this for my own sake, as well - I love writing. I'm only so happy to know that you guys enjoy it, too. Oh, and a special thanks to _**Pontas-Metallika**_ You made my day. That was so long, so sweet, touching, and all of the above, and informative. I didn't know anonymous reviews were disabled on my account, so thank you for that. :) We're gradually moving throughout this week, but I'm really doing my best to come up with as many chapters before they dismantle my computer from the house, so... I hope you guys don't give up on me, because I'm far from giving up on you guys! Ex's and Oh's - handwritten_**


	7. Choices

* * *

**All for Me, to Me, You Sue  
**Chapter 7: Choices

* * *

"Dad," I announced as I slipped through the doorway, "I'm home."

I set my bag aside on a table near the entrance. It was a waxed, wooden table with expertly carved drawers and silver vine handles that my mother had bought for the house when it was just newly purchased. She had a wonderful taste in home decorations. Her taste was unique in a way that it was antique – not exactly old-and-dying, but classical designs and furniture, all of which centered on wooden things. Having been surrounded with my mother's ideas for a good half of my life, I almost didn't have a choice but to prefer things that way, too. It was one of the few things she and I have in common. When we purchased our new home in Arizona, we'd gone crazy in IKEA, driving two shopping carts that we quickly loaded up with pillow cases, framed artwork, kitchen utensils, bedspreads, bathroom equipment, and the works. All in a day's hurry and excitement to get our hands on the house, we went home that night not knowing where and how to begin. I smiled inwardly as I replayed that night over in my head. Instead of burying ourselves with as much work as we could manage at night like we planned, my mom ordered in some Hawaiian pizzas, dragged a big, empty box in our empty living room, and then got out some playing cards, with which we played over who acquires the master bedroom. She lost, but then redeemed herself by winning over kitchen duty, from which point I began responsibility over lunch and dinner five days a week. It wasn't until she met Phil that she volunteered to cook more often, excusing me by saying that there's more than just the two of them now, so it was only fair. With that, I decided that I needed to remodel and rearrange my less-than-endearing room sometime.

I stripped myself out of my soaking jacket and didn't fight back the sudden heat that snuck onto my cheeks at the thought of the reason why that was so. I buried the thought of it deep in the back of my mind for now, hoping I could get by around Charlie without any questions asked. But my heart was not as convincing. Within my chest, it ached with the desire to burst out and release its pet butterflies that it caged inside my stomach. I had to think about breathing in order to ensure that I was even doing it right.

"Bella?" my dad called from the living room and I heard the frantic noises of his seasonal sport.

"Yeah, dad, I'm sorry I was late," I mentioned as I passed by him on my way to the kitchen.

He peered over in my direction as though to ensure it really was me and then hung his elbow against the body of the sofa as he watched me. "Where did you go?"

"Um, out with Callum," I hesitated a little, but otherwise knew that dad wouldn't mind. Ever since my mental breakdown, he'd been extremely encouraging and non-parentally lenient about my absence in the house.

"Oh, yeah, that kid," he said thoughtfully to himself. "Well, how is he?"

"He's good." More like kissable enough.

"That's good. Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, it was fine." – bless the word for having covered only a portion of the night – "He took me down at the same café he did on Saturday."

Charlie laughed, turning around on his sofa once more after muttering, "Smart kid."

At least they had that much in common – an addiction toward my belittlement. And then I remembered my burning question for Charlie about the Chandlers, but seeing as time was ticking – it was only and at the same time, _already_ seven o'clock – I decided to postpone it to another time – I could only wrestle with my heart for so long, after all.

I arranged Charlie's dinner half-heartedly. Memories and thoughts thronged bestially through my mind, each brawling for my undivided attention. And it was an effort to ignore them all.

In the hurry to isolate myself alone with my thoughts, I fixed Charlie a Prego spaghetti dinner. He was never very picky, perhaps because he was used to his microwavable, calorie-rich diet when he was living alone. To live alone – what could that have felt like? Especially knowing that you have family – they simply weren't there with you. Though I'm much more alike with my dad than I am with my mother and I know he doesn't exactly delight in crowds like I don't, I can't help but be certain that that kind of separation must have embedded a feeling of loneliness in him. How had he handled it? Being alone… Could we have been alike enough to have acted the same way when we were both deserted from what we thought would be our future?

I sighed. That wasn't exactly the kind of turn I would have liked my mind to make in exchange for a more pleasant memory, like something that might have happened recently. The quiet _ting _of the oven saved me from my thoughts, and I carefully took out the tomatoes from a sizzling tray. I diced them in small chunks and threw them in the pan where the Prego was beginning to look edible. I drained the boiling water from the spaghetti noodles and poured the content in a bowl. I stirred the Prego, peppering it before I emptied the pan in another bowl. After fixing some spaghetti on a plate for Charlie, I added some grated, mozzarella cheese and set it on the table. I washed the pans and the tray I've used and saran-wrapped the extra bowls of noodles and spaghetti sauce, and stuffed them in the refrigerator.

"Dinner's on the table for you, dad," I said, grabbing my bag from the table before I flitted up the stairs.

"You're not having dinner?" he asked, his head in my direction but his eyes glued on the television.

"No, I already had something to eat with Callum," I lied.

"Oh, alright, then. Thanks, sweetheart," he called.

I exchanged my bag with my clothes on the computer chair, athirst for a warm shower. I tilted my head up in the direction of the showerhead and closed my eyes, surrendering myself to my thoughts at last. The first to overcome all, with little surprise, was Callum. Within only a week, he was able to rid me of my insecurities and my fatal fears, and melted himself to completely freight himself in the void from my past. Through the clever remarks and interminable gibes, how has he found such a hidden passage to the most sensitive part of me? Everything feels so easy with him – to laugh, to smile, and to be myself, no matter if that meant being emotional or being the bitch I find myself being most around him. A part of me has always known that that was because I felt my guard crumbling at the sight of him and the sound of his voice, and so I'd unconsciously obligated myself to bar him away.

I reran the scene of our kiss over and over in my head and my heart didn't tire from subjecting to the stupendous feeling it permeated my body with. It was such a familiar, yet distant feeling – one that I remember having cherished unconditionally once before. But it was somehow different. They're two different people with such unworldly similarities at the same time. Except Callum would never acquire the need to abandon what we have possibly – somehow, with our kind of jocular relationship – woven for the same reason Edward had. This ran a course of comfort inside of me. How had love discover me – if that is what this amateur beating of my heart is implying of my feelings for Callum – amidst the flood of tears I've spared for it once before? Love was a burden, an impossibility – that's what I've built my fortress to believe so that it may stand its ground.

I ran my hands down my neck and through my cleavage before dividing them against my waist. My mind automatically drew a picture of our kiss once more and I grasped my hips where he'd pulled me closer to him by. It was still so graphic in my memory – every second of every touch. The insanity of the rain and the clement experience of his hands on my body, his lips on my lips. And I'd kissed him – Oh, God, _I'd _kissed him. He's driven me to the brink of fortitude – or had it only been absurdity? I brushed my finger across my lips and then bit my bottom lip softly. This ridiculously congenial feeling that sets my heart aflame – all a residue of that man's kiss.

About a minute too _short _into the kiss, Callum had wormed his hands against my arms and leisurely pushed me away. His movement had been so gentle that I didn't linger at the absence of our kiss for too long. He held me with his mesmerizing gaze, which were still as ardent as before, but with which the look of yearning was now combined. There was also a hint of struggle swirling in the depths of his eyes as he leaned his face so that it was adjacent to mine once again. His mouth gaped open half an inch as he tilted his head, seeming to take in my scent as he curved his way so that we were nearly kissing once more, his eyes shadowing the point to which his lips were on. But he didn't touch his lips with mine. And I didn't care. It was enough that he held me in place, with both his hands and the addictive motion of his face near mine. He was trembling and his hands gripped my arms steadily to the point where they were almost hurting me – almost; it seemed as though he was conscious about his actions, however much of an effort he had to put forth so that he may be. Finally, he closed his eyes and simply touched his forehead with mine. I closed my eyes with him, bathing not only under the hefty downpour but also within the enigmatic pleasure his mere presence catered me with. And with a simple, darling kiss upon my forehead, he was gone, and I watched with satisfied ease the silver vehicle dissolve into the night.

_"Bella," I listened to the whisper of the wind. _

_"Bella." _

_It rang swiftly among the forest, dancing along with the chimes that nature made. The trees offered gentle, fluttering sounds as the wind bypassed them. The sun glittered high up in the sky, merely peeking its way to the forest ground through the grey clouds. And then a figure stood upon the limelight of the sun in the center of the green meadow. It shimmered brilliantly and shot rays of eminent sparkles around it. I narrowed my eyes to penetrate through the luminosity and slowly made out the structures of a man. He was smiling, that much I could tell. But then a scarlet glisten shined upon his face and slid down his cheek. It echoed through the forest once the gleaming droplet gravitated on the ground, like a tear upon a pond. A tear— A tear? _

I awoke suddenly, but otherwise quietly. I sighed – that was different. Nothing came to mind when I racked my brain for a plausible meaning to my dream, and I easily shrugged the thought away.

"Good morning."

I jumped and instantly turned around from my truck in response. And there he was, swift as always to the point where I hadn't even noticed him anywhere nearby when I parked my truck just moments ago. "Callum!" I exclaimed, irritated. "Don't _do_ that!"

He chuckled, and I was helpless again. "You mean, greet you?"

"You know what I mean," I scoffed at him.

"Do I?" he said softly with a smirk as he leaned closer to me by a menacing inch. "Well, would you rather that I greet you good morning another way, Bella?"

I opened my mouth to say something – something hopefully witty – but my voice didn't cooperate with me. And neither did my mind. Consciously, I wanted to tell him off, but a more natural part of me held me back, struck by the truth in his words. No more than two minutes with him, and he's already got me feeling impotent. I grimaced and inclined my face away from him, certain that a blush has penetrated through my brittle cheeks. That is just fantastic. I crossed my arms across my chest, shivering slightly on purpose as though to disguise my blush as means to the weather.

He only chuckled once more and then reached out his arm, gently snaking it around my shoulders as he planted a placid kiss upon my forehead. "Good morning, Bella," he whispered against my ear, the coolness of his breath tickling me lightly.

"Mm," I surrendered, twisting my body so that my coat brushed against his sweater. "Good morning," I managed to say back.

He smiled at me enchantingly before expressing a hint of concern in his eyes. "Are you cold?"

"Just a little," I admitted.

"Bella," he groaned in jest, "What did I tell you about kissing some irresistible fool out in the rain?"

"You're right, you're right. He _is _irresistible," I grinned at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he raised both of his eyebrows in response. "Alright, moving on."

I laughed. "Aw, I don't believe it – he's actually being modest." I feigned a gasping expression.

He laughed with me. "You're a brat," he stated as he slid his hand down to my own, curling his fingers to fit the spaces between mine. I was only too willing to do the same with his. We plodded our way to first period, continuing to mock and ridicule each other on the way, but otherwise made no effort in erasing the smiles off our faces.

Just before we entered the classroom, I saw a glimpse of Jessica near the cafeteria with Angela. Angela looked mirthful, while Jessica simply looked downright dumbfounded, her mouth shaped into a perfect "o" as she stared at us in ecstatic disbelief. Calculus doesn't have a chance against her questions now.

"When?" Jessica asked in an investigative yet impatient tone. Her eyes smiled with her lips excitedly.

I groaned. "Last night."

"Where?"

"The parking lot…"

She squealed. I knew her next question would be here ultimate favorite: "How?"

I shook my head with an incredulous smile. "How? What do you mean, how?"

"You know what I mean. Come on, Bells, _how_?" she urged.

"It just, happened."

"Okay, okay. Well, who kissed who?"

Ugh. I should have known she'd ask. I drifted my eyes away from her, and she faster than instantly got the picture.

"No way!" she almost yelled, and some pairs of eyes turned to investigate the commotion. "Sorry," she mumbled quickly to them before turning back to me. "Oh my goodness, that's just adorable! And did he respond?"

I glanced at her and she got the picture again. I was glad to know she wasn't being slow today – I didn't want to directly admit as much as possibly.

"Okay, okay. That was a stupid question, you're right, but Bella, that's so precious. I knew it – Didn't I tell you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Now, please, spare me," I begged, "This isn't exactly the most comfortable topic for me."

Jessica sighed. "Alright, I give, but you _are _going to update me. This is the most exciting thing that's happened since forever," she exclaimed – exaggeratedly, I'd say.

I smiled at her direction and she smiled back at me. I'm not the best when it comes to friends – usually, I favor my time alone – but it was still nice to know that, even so, I've still somehow acquired some of the best, most understanding friends someone like me could possibly have. It wasn't my expertise to handle talk about nails and fashion trends – overall, I'm inexcusably bland and a pathetic excuse for a girl. To think that Jessica – or any of my friends – has endured such an empty friendship with me truly meant a lot to me, especially with all the cliques and high school labels. Back in Arizona, I only had one true friend, and even we didn't really do much outside of school together. It was even worse back there – students segregated themselves from those who are any less like themselves like people divide mathematical problems. It was one of the perks here at Forks, a reason enough for me to appreciate this poorly weathered place.

Lunch was a little awkward – as expected – what with all the knowing glances Callum and I were getting from our table alone – just imagine the female population who lost their minds in the sight of Callum within the entire cafeteria.

"So I guess this means you're sixty bucks short, huh, Bells?" Mike pressed.

"Not necessarily," Callum stated then, "She's still being difficult."

"You mean, reasonable," I countered. "I'm not going with you or anybody. I'm not going, period – final, done."

"But you've still permitted me the chance to change your mind, at least," he reminded me.

"Yes, a _chance_," I emphasized.

Callum rolled his eyes. "Amazing."

Mike laughed. "You guys sure click."

"Don't we? I'm patient, she's stubborn – it's an altogether well-suited combination," Callum remarked and I simply rolled my eyes. So he was right – whatever.

Mike just laughed again.

"Well, I think it's cute," Jessica said then, and she smiled at me.

"Hardly," Callum said in a mild scoff, "The girl just threw herself at me. I was completely without defense."

Oh, that is _it_. "Oh, _please_—"

"Well, would you deny it?" he challenged.

I grimaced. "And what did you do – run away?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," he smiled at me. It was a smile that eliminated all the humor in the atmosphere, and preempted it with that of a fairytale. I blushed – like I had a choice. Jessica, Angela, and even Lauren blushed inevitably with me at the sound of his words, like he'd been addressing all of us when he spoke. Mike and Tyler grunted at their obvious lack of attention. I glanced away from him quickly, not wanting to feed his ego, but just before I did, I saw him jump slightly as though he'd just noticed all the drooling eyes that were on him and blushed as he turned away from the attention, as well.

"May I ask what you have planned for the rest of your afternoon?" Callum asked casually as he leaned against my truck after school.

"I think you may," I smiled at him. "I'm contemplating whether I should look around for some furniture, but I don't know where to begin. I hardly know Forks, even with all the time I've been here. As far as I know, it doesn't even have such a place for that kind of stuff."

He smiled. "Sure, there is. Not exactly at Forks, but there's one around the neighboring town. Would you like to come check it out?"

"Probably not right now."

"Why not?"

"I haven't got any money with me, first of all. Second of all, I'm not even sure if the money I do have would be enough. And third, I haven't really thought about what I want to do with my room yet."

"So you're remodeling your room? Well, how would you like your theme to be like?"

I smiled. "That's easy – classic."

He smiled back at me, more beautifully than mine or any other normal person's. "I know just the place. Come on," he urged.

I stared at him skeptically. "What do you mean?"

"We're going out to fantasize your room, of course. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Well, yes, but like I said—"

"And like _I _said, we're going. So come on; we'll take my car."

"But, Callum—"

He leaned forward and kissed me softly on my forehead. "Bella."

Would this boy ever give me a break – or a damn choice – from his hypnotizing manners? I swear he knew what he was doing and what he's capable of – I swear of it. And it will be my absolute end someday.

I sighed, closing the door to my truck in silent defeat. I felt bad that I often let it wait for me recently.

"Hey, do you think we could use my truck?" I suggested.

"Hm? Well, I suppose that would be a good idea, what with all the furniture you're going to buy," he agreed.

"What? What furniture? Callum, I said I don't—"

"I'll take care of the expenses."

"Not happening," I fought.

"It is so," he argued.

"No," I finalized.

"Why not?" he almost sounded hurt and it only proved to plant guilt inside of me.

"I don't like that idea."

"Bella, just this once, won't you let me take care of you?"

"And why should you have to?"

"I don't… not yet, hopefully," he replied slowly.

I looked at him in surprise and utter mayhem. "What do you mean?"

He glanced away from me, his eyes once again revealing a war that raged inside of him. And then he averted his gaze back on me, and I saw that his eyes were liquefied in such a warm stage of deep, golden yellow. It intensified at my view and I could feel his breath scattering. An impeccable smile collected on his impeccable features as he brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek. He sighed softly as he closed his eyes momentarily. I inhaled deeply at the tender reaction of my merely human heart to his godly presence. I still can't quite familiarize myself with the feelings he gave me.

"This is kind of silly," he began, allowing a soft, tiny chuckle to escape his delicate lips, "especially after everything. I know it hasn't been that long since we met—"

Oh, no.

"—and I know this is kind of silly—," he sighed, shaking his head for a moment, "I already said that—Ugh, what I'm trying to say is—"

Please don't.

"Or I mean, ask you is—"

Don't…

"Bella, I like you – falling beyond reason for you. This may not be the place – or more than that, I may not be the guy – but, my sweet, I'll find a way to make it right, if you'd give me the time of your day and a space in your life. Bella—"

Please…

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

* * *

**_Welcome to Chapter 7 And now, for updates: we're really beginning to get cramped up in moving, but fortunately, they haven't made any specific plans about the computer yet. So I was able to present you guys with yet another chapter, which I'm hoping you guys liked. I felt a little rushed, to be honest. But before I forget - _**SharniB**_, whoa now. Careful with my heart there, missy. That was so incredibly sweet. And _**Pontas-Metallika**_, once more, you are awesome. Thank you guys for the reviews! Hopefully, I can work through another chapter before "the time", our ever-so informal name for the date when they take away my computer. Ex's & Oh's - handwritten_**


	8. OneWay Street

* * *

**And All for Me, to Me, You Sue  
**Chapter 8: One-Way Street

* * *

"She accepts!" someone hollered behind me and I responsively shifted my perspective toward my fantasy's – or nightmare's; apparently, I wasn't going to find out now – intruder. Even without such transposition, the voice swung familiar bells into my ears. I've heard it more than should be enough in merely half a high school's lifetime, after all. The only question that lingered now was oblivious: What in the world—! And when that did not quite suffice, I settled upon questioning the entire Milky Way instead. That proved a little better.

Suddenly, a flood of clamor surrounded us, blinking, brazen lights attacking my eyes like flying, broken glass – only it would have been an illusion, for this, at least, delivered no such physical pain. I shielded my eyes with my forearm, tilting my head away from the fluorescent nuisance. I felt an arm slip behind my waist and, at first, I bolted from the abrupt touch, but then I recognized the familiar, sensitive touch that handled me like I was the Declaration of Independence, soaked and fragile from less careful possessors. And then everything dissolved. The mysterious clamor, the irksome flashes of light, the voice to which I am more than just accustomed to, but grew to rely upon during the last few months. It was only me and the boy to which this feathery touch belonged, draped by the curtains of pleasure he's woven with impressive pace. Pitiful that my stronghold be pummeled by a curtain, however magically it was manufactured.

"Bella," an angelic sound dared jangle with my reverie. Transportation back to the inevitable was a heinous task and, with a single blink of an eye, I was once again met with the pandemonium that was the immaturity of senior students. My eyes magnified at Jessica first, whose voice I recognized earlier. She was beside Mike in his car, grinning blithely at the scene in front of her. As if her blatant outcry wasn't enough to emphasize the humiliation of the moment, my eyes landed – no, _glared_ – at the drummer of the basterous noises. Mike – Heaven figures – was punching his horns inside his Toyota, or at least what would be a poor excuse for a vehicle once I'm done with him. Beside him was an ever-so familiar blue Suburban van with which Tyler was flickering his headlights on and off. All the while, encouraging cheers crammed the air as they all staged our privacy.

My mouth hung, disbelieving the sight before me. Some friends. Once they realized I was well aware of their presence – and that I bore a diabolic expression at their jamboree – they came to a fearful halt. I was only too tempted to doom their lives forever.

Mike's eyes widened in realization first. "Shit, run for it, you guys!" he hurried to yell as he began receding from the parking lot.

"Just for the record, it was Mike's idea," Tyler called as he, too, roared his engine to life, speeding away like mice from a ravenous cat. Had God been as generous with me as He was with someone like Callum, I'd have been blessed with a calamitous vision for the unfortunate sake of such juvenile friends as those – only Callum's gift was a force that drew attention _to _him.

A frivolous chuckle broke through my plans, and I glanced up at the vocalist of such a heart-melting sound. Callum's cheeks were a polished crimson color and his lips arched into a nervous, disheartened smile, and he sighed. It broke my heart to witness the disappointment that now overruled his features. Even in such a state, he remained as dazzling as he ever was, his midnight dark hair caressing the wind beneath them. His eyes were a short distance away from me, and I missed them locked on mine – or his locking mine, rather. After only a fraction of a second, he granted my selfish wish, eyeing me with such warmth that it finely masked all signs of his previous countenance.

"Bella, there you are," he joked at my mental absence from the present.

"Funny," I remarked with a smile as I kept closer to him. "I'm sorry about that."

Callum held me closer by my waist as though, had he not, I would physically fade away with my thoughts – Heaven consumed me. And to think, I'd wanted to dump myself within my reverie – however lovely – and omit to such a tangible fantasy as this, with Callum. "It's alright," he scooted a strand of my hair away from my eyes carefully, "Attention isn't so bad."

I sighed. Lost without a start, I searched my brain for something to say, but Callum spared me eagerly. Perhaps it was possible that he felt more humiliated by the situation that I was. "Well," he began, his hand resting on the back of his ear, "Why don't we just, uh, get going?"

As soon as I nodded in response, I determined that I couldn't be more stupid, more lame. How could I settle for a nod? His attempt needed an answer and his time, an effort from _me_. Neglecting that much should be a crime – at least for someone as serene as Callum. But I had nothing. My words were drained of significance now, at least to me. It had been enough that I felt insignificant to begin with. I wasn't worth the question he asked, much less did I deserve the offer he created with me – an offer that involved his loyalty, his very heart.

"Would you like to drive?" he offered, "Since it is your truck."

"Um, sure," I answered, unsure of what I was saying.

Had I blinked, or was he actually so light on his feet? Before I knew it, Callum was by the passenger door, ready to strap himself in. Even now, his agility stunned me. Ironic, when I once embarked on a creature that excelled in agility.

"You're going to love this place," he promised with enthusiasm and it was hard to disbelieve the structure of his smile.

I smiled back, his natural warmth influencing my eyes as I felt them sharpen with sincere emotions for the boy next to me. "I trust you."

And he only livened that trust even more once we've arrived at his chosen destination. Benny's Hideaway – it sat on a strip behind the mall in Gilmore, Forks' neighboring town in the East. The outside was plain, and had I been without Callum's promising company, I wouldn't have spared it a second glance. However, the interior overlooked another story. A strong odor permeated the building. It smelled like dried wood and antiques, spicy in a way. I could almost taste the minty flavor that lingered with it on my lips. A large selection of desks, bed frames, drawers, and a variety more were displayed in an orderly fashion, all of which were the same texture as the table my mom had bought near the entrance of our house. I marveled at the view of it. Tall, green plants were strewn around the furniture randomly, but overall presented the entire vista well.

"Callum," I breathed, "This is so beautiful."

"Do you like it?" he inquired near my ear, like he was afraid to disrupt my silent adoration. "I was hoping you would."

"Oh, yes," I proclaimed, my eyes touching everything that was available for me to see in my line of vision, "I do; I love it!"

"Go on," he urged, "Go crazy."

I threw my eyes back at him in objection. "I can't—"

He smiled down at me affectionately. "I've never quite seen you this excited. Won't you please allow me to bathe in it longer?"

What more can I say, when he knows every way to disarm me? His eyes alone could pierce through my arguments, let alone his words. It seemed as though even the God of Victory was charmed by him. He smiled when he sensed my surrender.

"First up, a bed," he rejoiced as he guided me along the rows of masterpieces.

After an hour of exploring the wooden topiaries of furniture, he's insisted and eventually persuaded me to purchase a finely carved, queen-sized bed frame that stood two feet tall without a mattress and a frame that hovered a foot over the body. Overall, it was a simple design with no exaggerated features, but I was in love with it. He also talked me into buying a dark chocolate corner desk that stood about 3 feet higher than I did. It held many compartments, four drawers at each side, CD racks, and a sliding plank for a keyboard. It had plenty of space for open work, but still had a higher stage for a computer desktop. He also threw in a comfortable, brown leather chair for his money's waste. When I'd stated that that was all I needed – not to mention all the size of my bedroom could manage – he finalized the trip with an Italian nightstand that had a single drawer and two English lamps that varied in length – one for my nightstand and another as a general light to my room. We had to stuff those in the cab of my truck in order to fit all of his expenses, which approximately reached 1,550 dollars – a fact I was so ghastly aware of by sneaking a peek at the cashier screen.

"Hm," he contemplated as he looked over the new contents of my truck, which probably equaled the price of the truck itself. "Would you like to drop these off at my house until we could place them in your room?"

I can't believe I'd nodded and pointed my finger to this, that, these, and those without having thought about that yet. My mother and I were probably more alike than we gave ourselves credit for.

"I didn't even think of that," I admitted.

He chuckled rhythmically. "I kind of take comfort in that – it shows how occupied you were. I wish you'd let me do this for you more often."

"It was only this once, and that was because you left me with no choice."

"Then I shall rid you of your choice again next time," he grinned.

"Very funny," I said sarcastically, but then narrowed myself to unveil a more serious expression. "Honestly, Callum, thank you for this."

He smiled and leaned back against the side of my truck, extending his arms until they imprisoned my waist. As gently as I remembered it, he pulled me toward him with an obvious lack of effort and I wasn't quite sure whether I'd helped him with that with a single stride of my own. Once more, he leaned his face close to mine, but teasingly, for he refused to exult me with the sensation that comes with his lips against mine. His eyes closed faintly and I could feel the remaining fraction of his vision scanning my plain features. And then his mouth began to gape slowly, just as his hands begin to tremble against me like it had the last time. His lips quivered before they abruptly shut closed, and he was suddenly avoiding my eyes once again.

"Callum," I began, but where to end?

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "You're just aggravatingly irresistible to me, Bella, and I—I wouldn't want to take myself too far."

"You won't."

He reluctantly glanced back at me, his eyes searching my face for falseness that he became relieved not have found, apparently. Finally, he averted his eyes straight into mine in silent question.

"You can't overdo that which has no boundaries," I explained, surprised by the soft tone of my voice and what's more, the words that it spoke.

Callum stared at me in mild disbelief for a moment longer, before closing his eyes, only to flutter them open a second later. Once they did, they were smiling – along with his lips – generated from the familiar warmth that once again swirled in his brilliant, golden eyes.

We needed no further words.

After picking up his car from the school parking lot, Callum led the way to his house in front of me, which was deep within a private community in the outskirt of Forks. The forest overlooked the village of houses, which were all so elegant – at least, for Forks. I practically flattened my nose against the window of my truck as I admired the column of houses, each bearing a unique essence that magnified their individual beauty. I slowed down as Callum parked on an empty driveway and I followed to occupy the space beside his with his instruction to do so. I stepped out of my truck, which now looked like a jalopy among the brilliance that besieged it, and marveled at the tall structure that stood before me.

It was a two-story house, but its color was hard to determine through the darkened hour, though I can see that its borders were a darker shade than the rest of the house. His garage lay on the western side, with a file of trees separating it from the rest of the house. He guided me through a rock-patterned path, aligned with rows of irises on either side, toward his double-door entrance. Glancing up, I saw that there were two visible windows, both of which were stunningly curtained from the inside, as well as the massive window on his first floor. Four hidden lights were scattered along his front porch, which was put to perfection by the greenest of grasses. They lit up the view of the house in such a majestic way that I found myself feeling too minute in worth to be standing before it.

"Here we are," Callum beckoned as he switch the lights on in his house.

"Do you live alone?" I asked, disbelieving that an eighteen-year old was dangling the keys to this mansion in his fingers.

"Yes," he smiled, "I've told you that already."

"Yes, but I imagined, well, I didn't know what to expect, to be honest, but _this_," I gasped at the interior of his house.

"It's an inheritance from my parents."

Now I knew why he was aware of the existence of Benny's Hideaway. Everything was made of polished, wooden texture and marbles. The walls and floors were mosaic and absolutely gorgeous.

Callum seemed to notice my admiring eyes, for he asked if I wanted a tour of the place. I nodded automatically and he smiled as he took me by the hand, guiding me through the magnificence of his home.

"And finally, my room," he announced as he pushed open the double doors to his room. I was sucked into a fairytale. His room was just as beautiful as all the rooms and places he'd shown me, except his was engulfed in a feeling of tranquility. It was a tiny bit less dramatic than the other rooms, but it was just right. His bed, which looked like it was a king, was perfectly made in the center of the room and I noticed, with a surprised gasp, that it was the exact design as my own. I glanced at him for confirmation and he smiled at me sweetly, nodding at my unworded question. I exhaled in relaxation as I smiled – almost inevitably. A massive drawer was placed against the wall opposite of his bed, on which an equally humongous television was. His windows were draped with ivory, golden brown curtains, complimenting his tan walls superbly. His room was spacious, but it was hardly a surprise after he'd shown me the study room and the gargantuan bathroom that was right across the hall from his room. I was psyched.

"This is where you sleep?" I whispered, more as a statement than a question. "It's like a dream."

"Almost," he disagreed. "Dreams aren't usually as pleasant when you're alone."

I turned back to face him, and he only smiled at me.

"My mother would have been overjoyed with a female guest," he expressed with a merry thought. "There were only three of us, after all, and she always wished for a daughter, as well. She'd have spoiled you to the brink of no return," he chuckled.

I smiled at his open gesture toward his past. "My mother would be driven insane if she found a clue that exposed my whereabouts," I said with a rollicking smile. Callum laughed.

"She may be right to worry, you know," he implied as he shuffled closer to me.

"Oh, I know," I whispered, breathless at the sight of his handsome smile.

He bit his bottom lip by the moon curve of his lips. "And with how much I want you," he declared, taking another step toward me. "And need you." Another step. "I might just have to disappoint her." And with that said, he took the final step that enclosed the distance between our bodies.

"Well, then, perhaps you should straighten out your priorities," I peered at him sharply. "Her satisfaction, Callum, or mine."

And with that, he smirked, taking no less than a second to prioritize his concerns before quenching my utter satisfaction. I closed my eyes in silent but evident contentment while he ran his hands down slowly against my arms, which dumbly slept against my sides. But not for long, as Callum encircled them around his neck before trailing his fingers back down my arms once more and traced the curve of my sides, where he finally settled them against my hips. I palmed my hand against the back of his head and pulled him closer. Tilting his head to the side, he deepened the kiss a breathtaking amount. Suddenly, a shudder crept itself on my body as I felt two, icy hands make a contact upon my bare stomach. I sighed into the kiss, embracing the warm sensation his sensitive touch has burdened me with. Callum continued to explore my stomach with his hands, his movements as gentle as a breeze and as slow as a current. I shifted my head to the opposite direction of his own as I took pleasure in our subtle progress.

Just when I separated my lips, I felt him tense suddenly and then carefully drew away from the kiss. I opened my eyes weakly to find himself as breathless and his eyes as droopy as my own. His eyes were apologetic, however, and I smiled at him reassuringly through my uneven breathing. I leaned myself against his broad, masculine chest and he wrapped his arms around me, one across my shoulders while the other brushed through my hair. I curved my arms so that they sat atop his shoulders from behind him and kept close to his embrace. Next to my ear, I felt Callum breathe heavily, almost as though in a slight struggle, and his body trembling against mine.

We carefully dumped the new contents of my room in his garage and he kissed me goodnight on my forehead before letting me go.

"I'll miss you," he whispered.

"In that case, I guess I'll miss you, too," I smiled as I pulled myself into the truck, but was startled to find myself flying onto it instead. I watched helplessly as Callum carried me by my waist and then hopelessly as he leaned his body next to me, crossing his arms across his chest, and creating for himself a model portrait.

He laughed at my gibe. "Don't kill yourself over that attempt."

"I'm the morning sun, remember," I smiled at him. "I'll always awake to live another day."

He narrowed his eyes softly as he smiled. "And I shall hope to be the clouds, that which may besiege you in protection, steer the way for your brilliance, and cry at your absence." He grinned, "Besides, evil doesn't die so easily."

I reached for my handle and closed the door full tilt, losing handle from it as it bounced back after hitting Callum, who stood between myself and the door.

"Ow," he complained between fits of laughter, "Point exactly."

I laughed. "Shut up," I uttered with a smile as I shook my head at him.

He smiled a ravishing smile before slipping his arm around me while I sat on my seat, and kissed me fondly on my chin. It somehow made him look more vulnerable – only now because he stood a foot shorter from where I'm seated down – and I combed his radiant, thick hair that matched the shade of the sky, and touched my forehead to his as I closed my eyes, swimming in the moment of his affection. As we slowly drew apart – after a long moment made short by the illusion of time when you feel half as content – he felt for my buckle and slid it across from me, clicking it securely in its place.

Time was likely to be getting a good laugh out of this one. For a moment, I remembered what he'd once told me about time. '_Sometimes, it's the only thing that comes for free – the only thing we can really take advantage of. It takes, but it also gives. Just the same, it breaks and then heals, no matter how hopeless it seems_.' It takes, but it also gives… Could Callum be that which was given to me by time, after all it's taken from me? In time, I can take what is there for free and buy into the challenges it presents me with in return, but in the condition that Callum stay by my side and then do, indeed, take advantage of time. The future is so secretive – it lies within every second, every step, but still I know a future lies ahead of time and it will always be right there, waiting for me to decide upon it.

Could it honestly be that simple – that easy? Is it possible to conclude an outcome for your life, and make it only a matter of pursuing it? Perhaps, in more way than one, time is key. It herds you where you need to be and scatters just enough obstacles on your path for you to see for yourself if your objection is worth the while. So you won't have much to regret. And with that, the future doesn't have to be so secretive, because it could be so easy steering the wheel, once I have the drive for it. And maybe then I could finally roam where I desire to roam, because I am who I made myself to be and I am where I chose to be. There's an end to every one-way street, and I _can _urge forward to meet it. I don't want to reverse back to where I came from, not when I can move forward – the way is right there, right in front of me. And if I can, I will.

"Are you sure you know the way?" Callum beseeched me, warmth evident in his sidereal eyes that could easily be thrown into the night sky as stars, and no one could ever think it be anything otherwise.

"Yes, I know the way," I answered.

* * *

**_and so there goes chapter 8, which i'm proud to have stayed up for. i'm happy i'm able to sent out another chapter for you guys, so please review. i don't have many, but it still encourages me beyond reason when i hear from you guys. a little hint toward the next few chapters: it gets kind of complicated and it's definitely going to take a new course, so i may not be able to keep up with my usual interval between chapters. i'm sorry if that's so, but i'll do my best. ex's & oh's - handwritten_**

**_edit: hey guys. so i've gotten a question about this being a bellaxedward fanfiction... it is. but like jacob and bella's relationship in the novel, i wanted to expand her relationship with callum first. i know it's taking a long time and i'm sorry... but she's just gotten through a rough time with a broken heart and i didn't want to make it seem like that kind of thing is easy to forget or that she isn't that much into callum when edward arrives (i kind of begrudged him after he left her so abruptly in the book, hehe). but yes, edward will be coming in soon i hope that this hasn't driven you guys away so far. nevertheless, i appreciate the reviews and the read. i love you guys! _**


	9. Changes

* * *

**And All for Me, to Me, You Sue  
**Chapter 9: Changes

* * *

_He was smiling, like the last time I'd seen him, and he was beautiful. Onyx, thin hair danced like fire upon a windy day around his stunning features, but he had no eyes, no nose to identify him by. A lengthy arm extended toward me, inviting me to come closer, within the reach of the faceless creature. The remaining debris of the drifting clouds adjourned, and the sun became whole, eyeing us intently, its heat radiating permeably around us – that man and I. Even with the absence of his eyes, I could feel his invisible stare, smell his sweet, natural scent to which he must not be aware of without a nose. The fluorescence of the afternoon sun shaded him completely, and his body grew swords of crystals that outline his entire figure. It seemed as though the sun has taken a godly human form, its brilliant rays shooting wildly in all directions, beckoning to burn me alive. And I desired that flare – to serve as the fagot for such a mighty flame, beget by the hands of Apollo himself. _

_My first step was considerate – patient. The crystalline man was as still as a predator's eyes upon its prey, his long-suffering arm, extending to my combustible demise, neither resigned nor quivered with time. His alluring smile was persistent, dimming as I neared but maintaining a friendly essence nevertheless. I took another step, slow but sure._

_"Bella," a stranger called from a distance beside me, so frantic yet soft was his voice that I was taken out of my trance like I was never within one. I glanced in the direction of my savior – had my previous enchantment been anything to fear – and lost myself within the eyes of a man with whom I've grown so fond of. He hid beneath the shadows, woven to perfection by the hovering trees, but his deep, neon eyes were a beacon for my safety – my comfort. I took an automatic step toward him, eager to envelope myself within such sanctuary. A smile painted itself upon my face, arched like a moon where his golden eyes shall be the stars that surround it, like an act among purpose. _

_Suddenly, my body was fixated onto the ground, planted deep within the underbrush. My feet were rooted to the soil, and I threw panicked eyes to the magical creature that blinded the forest with tranquil lucidity. He's abandoned his mesmerizing smile and his lips oscillated slightly with his arms, which now hung enfeebled in the space in front of him – to me. A single ruby marble trailed down his cheeks and fell to the crimson pool that now collected around his feet. And then, slow as waiting, auburn orbs began to take shape on the dent upon his features. I narrowed my eyes in captivated inspection. A trigger inside of me was released, and I felt a strangled recognition that thirsted within me. My breathing scattered and I buckled my eyes shut from the sight. _

My eyes gasped open as I sat up on my bed, startled. I recognized the dream to be the same as the one I had a night or two ago, but with a tangible twist – Callum was there. He invaded my trance by which the sun god held me prison – where I'd been willing to burn. I sighed and peered at the round clock above my doorframe. 5:03 am. Taking a deeper breath, I laid back down on my bed and closed my eyes in an attempt to sleep. Eventually, I peeked an eye open at the clock once more. 5:11 am. With another helpless sigh, I gathered myself out of my bed and felt my way across the darkened room. I flicked the light open and assembled an outfit that would properly pertain for today's activities.

Since it was Saturday, Callum suggested that we remodel my room today. I agreed and we decided to start bright and early – as brightly as the withered weather of Forks could be – after Charlie leaves for work. That was about two hours from now, and three from when Callum had promised to arrive by.

After a quick, refreshing shower, I twisted a towel through my hair and let it sit on top of my head to dry. I dressed in simple attire – dark green sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt over a white spaghetti strap, topping it off with a stressed purple jacket. Glancing at my nearly empty room, I decided to take a brave peek under my bed to see what had gotten stuffed in there over time.

Within minutes, I've collected a mountain of things that had taken shelter under my ancient bed. Aside from some school papers and an empty box of Kleenex, a navy blue shirt rested on top of the pile, which I remember having hurled aside in refusal to wearing it due to reasons I refuse to explore. The next item I found was a scrapbook – No, I mean, _the _scrapbook –that my mom had bought me last year for my eighteenth birthday, in which unforgettable, unwanted memories were once placed before someone had altogether abducted them with his very existence. That day, he'd pirated not only his presence from my life, but also the biggest part of me.

I shook my head, wishing that minds worked like the etch-a-sketch I used to love playing with when I was a child, and erase undesired pictures with a mere joggle. Picking up the next item on the pile, I realized that that would be impossible. Before I'd moved to Forks with my dad, my mother had bought me a diary – much to my distaste – reasoning that I should have something with which I could freely express myself by, at least now that she would no longer be there with me. I'd accepted it with an elongated sigh.

I turned the page onto my first entry, written on the day I started unpacking here at Forks and found it sitting atop my clothes inside my luggage.

_Dear Diary, _

_I just totally freaked myself out by writing that. That's creepy. _

_So I might as well give in to my mother's idea – not like that's anything new. It's day two here at Forks and already, the weather's being whiney at my presence. It's not like I don't feel lousy enough being here. My dad bought me a truck, which, to my surprise, wasn't so bad. The only thing is, where to go with it? I'm not very comfortable with this weather. Not to mention school starts tomorrow. I'm thinking this diary will only be met with complaints, so I really don't see the point. _

_Somehow – really, really deep inside of me – I do feel kind of anxious, though. Looking back at my life in Arizona, I figured there shouldn't be any other way but up for me. If not, that's just sad. _

_Bella._

I knelt down and flipped onto the next page, curious as to what more I've written two years ago. I just barely remembered it existed – much less, what I wrote on it.

_I've decided to spare myself away from the whole Dear Diary – there I go again – thing. It's not worth the panic. _

_So today was my first day at Forks High School. It wasn't half bad, to be honest. I'm seeing potential friendships all around, no matter how subtle that would end up with someone like me. I'm not entirely enclosed – I do appreciate that much from life. Something that did bother me, though, was a boy. Mom would be thrilled about the idea of a boy in any part of my life, even if that was the bothered part of it. Jessica, a new friend (?) of mine, addressed him as Edward Cullen, and I just happened to be sat next to him in Biology. He was gorgeous – no going around that – but it's as though he's already developed a heinous malignity toward me. He trembled at the sight of me and threw abominable eyes at me every so often – all within an hour of class! I've never felt so insulted and the worst part of it is, I don't understand why I'm even so affected by it – by him. _

I sighed. Had I only known… Even though a revolting twist began fumbling in my stomach, curiosity bested me, and I turned the page once more.

_I can't believe it! He didn't even come to school today. How could he hate me that much – assuming that that was the case? _

More churning in my stomach, like milk in a blender, as I turned another page.

_No Edward. _

And another…

_What—Do I have lice or something? Geez. _

And another…

_Where is he…? _

And finally…

_He came back, and along with a rehabilitated attitude – No, not even that; he was being perfectly normal, as though he never made me feel like dirt among rich soil. Beyond normal, in fact, because he was being so impeccably polite. He's either abnormal or deranged or… _

_Anyway, he's nice._

When I saw that the first word on the next page began with a certain, rekindling name, I finally found the courage to fling the notebook aside – quickly before I could change my mind. Just then, as though on cue, someone knocked on my door.

"Yes, come in," I allowed.

My dad slowly peeked through the door before creaking it open wider to face me. "Bella? I saw that your light was open and—Why are you up so early?"

"Just trouble sleeping, that's all," I answered honestly. "Did I wake you?"

"No, no. I usually wake up around this time so I can have half an hour to prepare for work." He eyed my miniature mountain range. "What are you doing?"

"Umm," I began as I looked over the view of it, "Just thought I'd clear away my mess before Callum arrives so we wouldn't have to worry about it later."

"Oh, that's right," he said in thought, "That's today. That was awfully nice of him to do, by the way." He hesitated before continuing, "Just out of curiosity—"

Here we go.

"—Are the two of you—"

"No, dad, we're not," I answered, unable to help but smile a little with his unease about the subject. Since when was it established that fathers were supposed to be uncomfortable with this kind of stuff? Usually, as teenagers, they were the wild ones. They'd go around wishing every girl would look their way, but I guess opinions change with hair color. What a vile stage – getting old.

"Ah," he replied slowly, and I could see his poor attempt at disguising his relief with indifference. "Well, you two be careful moving all that stuff out of the way. I told you to put it off until tomorrow so that I could help."

"Yes, but Jacob's expecting me bright and early tomorrow morning," I reminded him, "as usual."

"Oh, yeah, well, okay then. I'll just have some breakfast and be on my way," he smiled at me briefly before turning and closing the door behind him.

The smooth sound of tires wheeling into my driveway irritated my ears and I yawned as I realized I must have fallen asleep. I trudged toward my window and, sure enough, Callum was there, leaning handsomely against a black '07 Cadillac truck – a knowledge of proof that Mike and Tyler do, in fact, sat at the same table with me during lunch – with two doors and an extra cab like mine. His arms were folded across his chest, but his features held no impatience as he smiled up at me. I half expected him to recite Romeo's famous line as he climbed up to the balcony to beguile his fair Juliet, but I neither have a balcony, nor am I Juliet – even if Callum would make a more-than-fair Romeo.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!" he yelled, however majestically.

What a way to scratch _that _Shakespearean fantasy. Now why would I want the most famous, romantic scene in all of history when I could live this Disney classic? I tossed him the first item that's within my reach - a stuffed, brown-spotted puppy that has sat on my desk since the day my mother gave it to me as a child – which he easily caught.

"Or why not a puppy," he commented with a smile, and I chuckled.

"Hold on, I'll get the door."

"Good morning," he greeted me once I've opened the door for him. Seeing him stand by my door, I was suddenly met with an erratic beat of my heart, and I wondered if I would ever get used to that around him. It was as though he knocked directly at my heart and it struggled to make a muscled entrance for the sake of him.

What was he saying again? Oh, yes. "Good morning," I replied as calmly as I could convince my heart to spare me.

Callum was so gorgeous. It wasn't like a celebrity-crush kind of gorgeous – it's more mysterious than that. His features were incredibly foreign, unlike any traditional face I've ever seen. To identify him as "hot" or "sexy" doesn't feel quite right, either, though I know he is both. But something else, like a blind attraction that is kept secret because no one else could possibly fabricate such an angelic look. From the way his eyes danced without moving his head toward the direction of his objective to the way he gesticulated meanings with the formation of his words and not by hands – he was irresistible.

He walked in, politeness written on his posture, and then stopped just a couple of steps inside. He speculated the space well, his hands buried inside the pockets of his deep cerulean pants. The sleeves to his lightly striped polo – which was painfully stunning on him, while he wore the first two buttons loose, revealing the white cloth that draped against his bare chest – were rolled up on his forearms, where he wore a silver watch around one of his wrists. Meanwhile, his eyes were slightly troubled, or so it seemed, for he was angled toward the view of the living room. His eyes explored every corner before turning back to face me. It seems I was wrong because he held no such troubled expression in his eyes – only the warmth that I love. Relief washed over me at this realization.

"Shall we begin?" he asked enthusiastically.

We began by dismantling my old furniture – from my bed to my desk, and then finally getting rid of that historic rocking chair that sat in the corner of my room. Callum was adoringly strong. Even though I was aware that the screws holding my old, wooden bed were already loose from harsh and lasting experience, it would have still taken a lot of effort to completely take them apart from each other, but he did it. He did the same to the remaining furniture so that we wouldn't be hassled with the space in the truck when disposing of it and having to carry it down through the stairs with only the two of us. We talked contently, sharing memories both good and bad – though I did avoid the _worst _of them – while he worked. Once or twice, I complained and apologized for being so helpless, but he waved me off with a smile and a reassuring, soft kiss on my forehead, which only tempted me to complain more, but of course, I resisted. He was consistently swift and graceful with his work. The weather wasn't cold, even when the sky is dark with clouds and the air is wet, so it made it that much more admirable when I noticed that he hasn't shed a single droplet of sweat. I was somewhat disappointed, for how amazingly gorgeous would he look with a few glistening dots perched on his remarkable features?

"So then she met Phil, who was a coach here or there, I don't know," I heard myself saying, though my mind was occupied with the sole thought of him, "And she – what did she say she did – she _knew_ he was the one."

Callum chuckled as he disassembled a leg off my computer table. "You're a funny storyteller, Bella."

"Why do you say that?" I asked, hardly irritated by his forwardness when he was gazing right at me with those penetrating eyes. "Okay," I admitted after a while, "I guess I see."

He chuckled once more. "I think it's precious."

"It's always either that or endearing with you," I remarked.

"With _you_," he replied back, and his eyes confessed the truth in his words.

I don't know how long I stared at him with widened eyes – which were what I figured I was doing; it was most likely at a situation like that – before I finally collaborated a few words together, enough to make a sentence – enough for any kind of response so I wouldn't seem so helplessly speechless, no matter if I really am. "How do you do it?"

Oh, like _that _was a helpful way out. It totally, undeniably avoided the idea of being speechless. Really now, Bella, geez.

"Hm?" he hummed in question, his eyebrows raised at a polite height – just enough so that it doesn't make my question look as dumb as it was to me. "What do you mean?"

I decided I might as well. "How are you able to make me feel so warm…?"

He suddenly ceased working and eyed me for a moment longer, surprise lingering in his iced golden orbs, before smiling at me – so beautiful a smile. "You're not so terrible at that field yourself, Bella. You have such a pleasant way of making me feel so weak, and I could either crumble or live by your touch. I think about you and I miss you when you're not with me, which is exactly where I want you to be." He narrowed his eyes, almost as though in shame of the few last words he'd said, and his eyes grew intense with the mysterious, internal war raging within him once more, "You make me want to be selfish. When I am bold, it is your warmth that's given me the fire to be so. You're so beautiful to me, Bella, inside and out."

My heart paced, impatient by my insecurities, my doubts, and my fears, as it entreated to be set free. "And I want to lose myself in that – in you," I began with a startled realization that my voice was at a whisper, still grasping within itself the feeling of insecurity, doubt, and fear.

"But should you need time," Callum whispered, his voice silky, gentle against my flaws, "Then I shall wait." And then he was embracing me, clothing me with the mysterious warm that radiated from his physically cool body. Where I lost myself.

Right then, I let myself believe that I was accepting this change. Just as I was refurnishing my room, I was also refurnishing my life. With such a physical step into my development, could it be that an emotional step is well on its way to rebuilding my broken existence? And I did – I believed it.

Once we – well, okay, _he _– was done dismantling my bedroom, we carried them one by one – three by three for him, actually – downstairs and loaded them onto my truck. Callum almost put me on time-out in my own kitchen due to a near heart-attack – at least that's what he so exaggeratedly mentioned it as – I gave him when I stumbled on the stairs when I attempted two leg pieces at once. He barely caught me – and the two leg pieces – on time with impossible speed, considering he was just walking back inside when I (almost) fell.

"You're amazing!" he commented in frustration.

"I was just trying to be helpful," I defended, hurt and humiliated by my own silly attempt to be super.

"Sweetheart—," he began, but cut himself off before he could say something unpleasant, I guessed. But instead, his eyes showed pure guilt and I realized it must have been due to the disappointed expression in my eyes. Finally, he sighed and cast his eyes to the side as he handed me the leg pieces once more. "Fine," he muttered.

But as he walked back down, I could still see his eyes flickering back at me continuously in caution.

An hour and more assembling, connecting, and hammering later, we were finished. I looked over my room from my door where I stood with Callum by my side, still without a single sweat after having done all the work with the furniture. Parallel to the window was my bed, which lay in the middle of the room. I first noticed the NASA-inspired mattress after unloading the packages of furniture from the back of his trunk, which I argued with him about outside in my driveway for having bought it without my permission. He reasoned that it was his money, not mine, and to butt off. Next to the window, across the foot of my new bed, was the triangular, corner desk. Beside the bed was also the Italian nightstand he'd bought me without the slightest consideration toward my bedroom space and on which we placed one of the two English lamps he threw into his budget at the last minute before leaving Benny's Hideaway– not that he seemed to have a budget. The other lamp stood by the corner nearest to the door. Overall, it was all so elegantly beautiful.

"Do you like it?" he asked softly into my ear.

"From the bed all the way down to the last drawer."

He smiled now, as attractively as ever, and affectionately encircled his arms around me from behind as he watched over all the magical changes he's accomplished – with what had once seemed so hopeless.

"So, has 'yet' arrived?" Jacob inquired curiously the next day. I slapped myself inwardly – I should have known this was coming. How had I forgotten to consider this question?

I didn't time how long I took searching my brain for just the right answer without falsifying anything, but it seemed like Jacob did.

"Ah," he merely said in quiet understanding. "That sucks for me."

"Jake, it really hasn't—Well—," I stumbled ridiculously with my words.

"I knew, you know," he was whispering now, almost to himself, "I knew from that first day I met him at Port. The way he looked at you – it's as though it was just a matter of time, and now what do you know—"

"Jake—"

"But that didn't matter," he continued, his eyes more focused now – a clear disguise for things that bothered him. "What mattered was yours. I'd gotten there first that night and met with your friends by the restaurant. I'd been right behind them as you two parked – as he held your hand and you panicked. Of course you would; you were probably worried what other people would think if they'd seen that," he chuckled softly, but clearly pained. "But I guess the correct emotion in your eyes at that time would be… confusion. It's strange, but I wish you'd gained that same emotion in your eyes with me, just so I could know that I've collided with your past enough for you to be unsure of how to feel – because you _are _feeling something; you're just confused if it's right or wrong… if it's alright for you to feel that way."

The biggest thing was that I understood everything Jacob was trying to say. The picture was simple, made complicated by my own mixed emotions. But the most evident meaning of his message resided within the tone of his voice – Jacob was hurt. He loved me through and through, in spite of many things. He loved me because and beyond. And it was okay that I didn't love him back in the same manner, because he can see it in my eyes – the potential to being happy once again. It was okay, because he'll find a way to be happy through the happiness within my eyes. He'll find a way through my happiness. That is what he was saying.

And that was all I needed to cry. Tears surfaced from my eyes and I allowed my emotions to pilot their current down my cheeks, where they dissolved against my lips. I let them speak for the words I cannot find and all the words that do not exist, that could somehow make things right for him without hurting him. I felt sweltering arms curl around my body and the warmth of Jacob's lips as they brush against my cheek, dragging his bottom lip slightly as he continued upward onto my forehead. He didn't kiss me, but instead, simply touched his lips on my skin, his breath sending hot shivers to crawl down my body. I felt the comfort that he was trying to convey. No amount of time could ever deceive my love for Jake. He was my greatest confidant, my rainbow after every storm, and he's done so much to prove it. Now I felt horrible, for how could you serve to be somebody's rainbow when they've determined to make you their sun? I am literally behind the clouds that centered this raging storm above him - the reason for his sacrifice.

Suddenly, his body tensed against mine and I felt him dig his fingers into me from where he'd been holding me. Through a blurred vision, I glanced at him, startled at his abrupt reaction, but as soon as I've caught a glimpse of his expression, I knew something was wrong. His eyes were shut excruciatingly and he was gasping for air. Then his eyes snapped open, indignation splattered in his eyes. And then it became fear, and then concern, until they were all smudged together in his chestnut, amber eyes. He suddenly pushed me roughly away, into his car from which I was sitting on by the opened door.

"Jacob!" I yelled in exasperation, retrieving my balance as soon as I'd found the courage and the strength to move from where he'd thrown me. "Jacob, what's wrong?" I sounded, panic dominating my voice.

Jacob screamed, and before I knew it, I was running toward him. I threw my arms around him and held him as tightly as I could, against his defying body. I persisted through the pushing and the screeching sound of his yelps as he fought against the force of my body against him.

"Jacob, what's wrong! Jacob!" I yelled desperately, tears streaking down my cheeks uncontrollably.

"Bella!" I heard my name, but I didn't care nor bother to glance away, for I knew it wasn't Jacob's. I only wanted to hear Jacob call me. I wanted him to tell me he's okay.

"Bella, get away from him!"

I wanted him to tell me what's happening, and then say that it's alright.

I felt somebody tug at my waist and I felt my arms loosening its grip around Jacob. "No!" I yelled, "Jacob! Jacob, talk to me!"

"He's in pain, Bella," the voice shouted, "You best keep away!"

"Jacob!" I cried and finally, I turned sharply to face Sam Uley. "What's happening to him?" I demanded.

"He's going to be alright," he explained, more calmly now, "He's just in pain. Come on, let me walk you outside."

"No," I shook my head, "I want to be with Jacob."

"We'll take care of him," he promised and for the first time, I noticed a group of eyes that were on me by the entrance to the garage. I didn't care enough nor had time to identify them all, except for Billy Black, who was the most recognizable in his wheel chair. As soon as I lost grip, Sam Uley perched me on his shoulders and carried me outside. If I was still remembering things correctly, I'd gone to Jacob's house early in the morning, but as soon as we crossed the entrance to his garage, all I saw was black. Pitch, hard black.

* * *

**_So it's 3:51am, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't getting sleepy toward the end at writing this. lol Buuut... Here's Chapter 9! I'm sorry it took two days, but it is a little longer than the others, if that counts as anything at all. I hope you guys enjoyed it! _**Pontas-Metallika**_, you're a crazy girl! lol. I just loved the way you ranted and compared their romance with what you did - it was so cute. And the whole remodeling her room due to my moving... hahah! I didn't even think of that, that was so genius! But no, it was just a symbolism toward her acceptance into change, as I mentioned in this chapter. Nevertheless, you continue to amaze me, haha. Thank you for all the reviews I've gotten, everyone! They mean so much to me, honestly. Ex's & Oh's -- handwritten_**

**_PS. I just have to let this out: AHHHHHHHH, I'm getting my own room, after sixteen years of existence! Who's up for a sleepover here at California with me?? lol. I'm so excited, I'm almost serious. And with that, I'm hoping to be able to write more because I work best in solitude. I have a nephew who runs around screaming, crying, pooping, and playing all day and it doesn't help that the computer's outside in the living room. But now it'll be in my room - yayness. Soo... That's that. lol Just needed to rant. Love you guys!_**


	10. Predicaments

* * *

**And All for Me, to Me, You Sue**

**Chapter 10: Predicaments**

* * *

"Jacob!" someone was screaming near me. "Jacob, what's wrong? Jacob, what's wrong! Jacob!" The voice was awfully familiar and so was something else. I tightened my eyes while I tried to grasp a memory from which the owner of that voice might have been entailed. It was a ravaging effort to do so – my head felt like the little tomato cushion that my grandmother used to stick needles to while sewing. It was impossible to register any of my thoughts, and I wasn't sure whether that was because nothing was coming to me or because there were too many things at once. In the back of my mind, however, was an overpowering feeling, as if I was purported to remember something unimaginably prominent.

"No! Jacob! Jacob, talk to me!" It was a female voice. She was gasping the words as she shrieked it against my ear. Panic was evident in her voice, which was neither that of a woman's or a girl's – a teenager. She was close – I could both hear and feel the quiver as she spoke. And she was mentioning Jacob. Could it really be _my _Jacob? If so, what happened…? What was happening to Jacob, and so horribly so as to insert so much fear in the young woman's voice?

"Jacob!" She screeched his name desperately and it pierced my ears – and more, my heart – in such a way that was more than the result of mere sound. I jumped. My heart was pacing as though it was running uneven tracks inside my chest, unable to beat and venturesome as it swelled without air. In my mind was yet another race, blaring thoughts and memories coursing swiftly around, swirling in such a discombobulated state that scratched a heavy grief against my skull, like running fingernails on a blackboard. I seized my head in alarm just as the girl nearby began to scream hoarsely in what sounded like pain of her own. I could feel her thrashing about as she tranquilized her unnamed aching.

I abruptly shot my eyes open and an image of a familiar car flashed across my head, like my eyes had been the lens that which just snapped its picture. And then strips of images filmed past my eyes in a vivid fleet of recent memories – Jake's garage, the midnight and crimson twin bicycles, Jake's lips caressing my cheek and his arms encircled around me in a tender embrace, his sudden grip on my shoulders, how he'd thrown me into the interior of his Porsche, myself as I held onto his struggle, our mysterious audience and Sam Uley… Jacob!

"Bella!"

Suddenly, my heart felt like it snapped back into place roughly within my chest and I inhaled a heavy gasp of air, as though I've just been suddenly resurrected from death and it's been my first intake of breath for the years that I've been dead. A hand grasped my shoulder and I blinked tightly for a brief moment before securely twisting my head to random direction, my eyes wide as I searched my surroundings as well and as quickly as I could. But my surrounding was the least I could have worried about – I was in my room, safe in the confines of my comforters, which were now a deep beige color with dark brown patterns near the front hems. For a second, I panicked at the strange room, with a triangular corner desk and some foreign-looking table next to – did I mention? – this gigantic, wooden bed, and the beautiful, antique lamps. Once the face of a persistent, gorgeous boy penetrated through my panic, however, I was finally able to take a rational, normal breath of air.

A dream. Had it all just been a dream? Everything was such a blur that had it actually been a dream, I wouldn't have been able to differentiate which part was a dream and which part was reality. Nevertheless, I sighed at the familiar site that now besieged me.

"Bella, honey," my dad was whispering soothingly beside me, his hands now rubbing my shoulders to calm me down. "Easy, Bella, easy, honey. You're okay, sweetheart, you're safe. I'm here."

I'd already settled down, but Charlie's fatherly words kept me aground. His willing protection as a parent was more than just that, but also as someone who simply cares, and that always counts for something. But something was still of clear uncertainty to me.

"Dad, who were—Or, were there anybody here with you? Uh, Jacob—Was Jacob here with you, and anybody else? A girl?" Even to myself, the words had all came out sounding silly – Obviously not.

Charlie's expression was bewildered. "Um, no, there isn't anybody else here, nor was anyone here with me," he explained.

"Oh," I breathed, my eyes narrowed in wonder, "Okay. I'm sorry; it must have been a dream then."

"It's alright, honey," Charlie reassured as he patted my knee through my covers, "Why don't I get you something to drink, okay? Would water be alright? Do you want some juice?"

"Um," I staggered, my mind still aching when I try to think, "Water's good."

"Alright," Charlie said as he heaved himself up from the edge of my bed and proceeded toward the door. I was busy examining the dark patterns on my sheets, exploring through my thoughts, when he turned around and assured me, "Don't put too much thought into it, Bells. It's just you and I here," and with that, he was gone.

You and I… You… Me. Me! That mysterious girl screaming Jacob's name had been me, in my sleep. That must mean that her… _my _panic over Jacob had been real. I was suddenly imbued with such a declaring bafflement, which at the same time was more a realization than anything. My solitary reenactment of what had gone on this morning – or was it this morning – had been all the reminder I needed. Jacob was hurting, something extreme had been bothering him, and I'd stupidly been knocked unconscious. My head ached with the actuality of the situation and the memories of that morning with Jacob once again materialized through my mind in a much more accepted and realistic manner. A myriad of emotions substituted my conflicting thoughts, all of which centered on my dolorous concerns over Jacob. More than the physical pain in my head was the mental infuriation I felt toward not being able to understand any of what had gone on and how I'd ended up here in my room – and safe, for that matter, when Jacob was well on his way to having been claimed mental.

My breath scattered once more and I pumped my head in an attempt to catch it while I clutched the sheets roughly. I was shaking terribly and everything began to swirl smoothly around me, like stirred liquid cream. All of a sudden, the door swung open and the swirling halted. Everything was quick to melt back into place, as though shy, and were now only mere blurs through my eyes. I threw a glance toward the door where my father stood, carrying a small tray, though I could hardly translate his expression due to my damaged vision. I watched wildly as he immediately set the tray down on the beautiful nightstand and sat on the bed beside me.

"Bella? Bella, honey," he addressed as he shook me lightly by my shoulders.

"Dad. Dad, Jacob… He—Dad…," I stammered uneasily, my voice overflowing with panic and fear for my best friend.

"Honey, calm down. Calm down, Bella. Jacob's fine, just fine. He's at home, well and safe, with his dad. He just received a terrible stomach virus is all and Billy believes it will wear off with a little rest," he explained patiently, now rubbing my shoulders up and down in honest assurance toward the situation.

And I did feel assured – at least, a little more than I was. Jacob was safe, he was alright. My heart stopped, but in a good way, and my breathing became much easier to rebut with. I sighed in relief and it felt so wonderfully normal.

"And me – what happened to me?" I asked earnestly.

"You fainted, Bells, which the doctor said was just out of shock. He said you should be back up and running with a little rest, too."

"And how long have I been resting?"

"Well, you fainted yesterday morning and it's now," he consulted his wrist watch which I'd recognize anywhere, considering how I've never seen him take it off since I was all bottles and full diapers, "four in the afternoon of Monday, so just about a day and a half."

"A day and a half? How about school? And why aren't you at work? You shouldn't be off until seven," I paced in panic.

"Easy, Bella, you just woke up. I called in at your school, told them you'll be gone for an unknown amount of days and explained to them what had happened. I'm also thinking that you shouldn't attend school tomorrow, just to be safe and to have you running back up in full charge. As for me, I called in at work, of course. I couldn't possibly have left you here all alone now, could I?" He smiled as he kissed me softly on the forehead rather hesitantly – he hasn't done that since I was a little girl. "You rest up now, but be sure not to worry me so much again and wake up. I'm getting old, you know, Bells?"

I smiled faintly at him – it was both real and weak. "Alright. Thanks, Dad." I still wasn't sure what more I was capable of saying, especially when my thoughts have been limited by my overpowering colony of emotions.

"Call on me if you n—," he began to say before the phone rang demandingly downstairs. "I'll be right back, honey."

Once my dad was out of sight, I started to recollect myself once again – emotions, thoughts, memories, and all. Doing so in front of my dad may have triggered some uncomfortable questions if my mind starts leaking through my expression. I attempted to organize my thoughts with my feelings, connecting the right emotion with which thought, and then attaching them to its proper memory. It was a confusing effort, but not a pointless one. By the time I heard my dad yell, "Bella, it's for you!" from downstairs, I've concluded that I needed to talk with Jacob. In simple fact, everything about this particular circumstance with Jacob's abrupt illness and my unconsciousness was tearing me apart.

I forced myself out of bed, slipped on a jacket that was hanging off the post of my bed – for some reason, I was frosty cold – and then headed down the stairs, careful with my balance as I did so. By the time I got around to the kitchen, my dad was already saying, "I'm sorry, she's taking a while. Actually, she might not be feeling well enough to come downstairs yet—" to my caller.

"Dad, it's alright, I got it," I assured him with a gentle tap on his shoulder.

He considered this before handing me the phone. "Well, alright. I'll be in the living room if you need anything."

"Thank you," I said as I turned my eyes toward the ancient, square-tiled flooring. "Hello?" I spoke into the receiver.

"Bella!"

It was no surprise that it had been Jessica – I suspected as much from her if I missed school when, after all, I rarely do. Nevertheless, I was actually very thankful for the realistic familiarity her voice provided.

"Bella, where were you today?" she asked frantically.

"Calm down. I just, uh, woke up kind of late and I didn't feel so well," I lied. As much as I appreciated her call, I wasn't in the slightest of moods to tolerate her expected questioning toward the truth.

"Oh, well, are you alright? Are you feeling better? Are you going to school tomorrow?"

Though even without the truth…

"Yes, yes, and no."

"No? Why not? I thought you said you were feeling better," she moaned.

"_Better_," I emphasized, "But not well. My dad thought it was a good idea that I stay in just an extra day for in-case reasons."

"I guess so," she was considering when the receiver started to signal another caller.

"Hey, I've got to go, alright? I'll see you, um—"

"Wednesday," she finished, "I'll see you there. We all hope you feel better soon. Everyone was concerned about you today."

The awaiting call was impatient against my ears.

"Thank you, and tell everyone else that for me, as well. Bye, Jess, I'll see you then," I quickly said as I clicked over to the other line before the caller decided to call it quits.

"Hello?" I greeted.

"Isabella…"

Callum!

"Callum!" I exclaimed over the phone, holding it tighter in my hands. The heavenly ring of his voice sent pleasant shivers to cascade down my fragile body. It was a comforting sensation that acted as a makeshift relief from all my worries, pains, and fears. I've been with him just two days ago and yet I realized just how much I've missed him.

"Bella, where were you today?" he sounded, concernedly and fearfully so.

"I'll explain when we're together," I promised, unable to lie to him like I had with Jessica, "But for now, Callum—" I felt so stupid once I realized I've actually paused.

"Yes, Bella?" he asked patiently, his voice so elegantly crafted by the gods of chorus.

As if that helped in organizing my thoughts.

"I've missed you," I blurted out, as gently and as sincerely as I could manage at the same time before I changed my mind.

This time, there was a pause on his part. For a second, I thought that might have been too lame to admit, no matter how much truth was dripping from it.

But Callum wasn't like that – he was different, and so pleasantly so.

"As I have you, Bella. I've missed you, too, as I still do," he whispered simply, but not an ounce of hesitation was evident in his voice, even with his small pause. In fact, he sounded like infatuation itself. Callum could never amount to being merely infatuated; he _must _be infatuation itself for it was like he was too perfect a man to be affected by such silly emotions.

Without thinking, I found myself saying, "Please come over."

And himself, saying, "Give me five minutes."

By six minutes, I was within the comfort of his – could it really be? – longing embrace. It was safe here, more safe to me than anywhere else. As soon as I've flung the door open and found him standing in front of me – true to the point of his promise – I'd thrown myself at him. He opened his arms in time for me to fit myself within the curve of his body and then secured them closed around me, one arm around my waist and the other against the back of my head. If he'd been surprised by my uncharacteristic – as far as character can be maintained with Callum – actions, he was flawlessly imperturbable about it. He held me patiently, careful and gentle as he brushed his cheek against mine before planting a delicate kiss upon my forehead.

"What happened, Bella?" he questioned softly, patience sounding from his voice as though he'd hold me for as long as he needed to, even without reason – or, if Heaven exists, _beyond _reason.

I hesitantly loosened my hold on him, enough so that I may draw back slightly to meet his frosted golden eyes which glowed lustrously in the gentle light of the full moon. For a second, I thought I saw his nose scrunch up, like he was nailing it away from a pungent smell. I blushed, my cheeks hot from embarrassment as I realized it must have been me; after all, I haven't taken a shower since yesterday morning before I went to visit Jacob. The thought of Jacob did nothing to help my abrupt uneasiness. Suddenly, within a world that's far away from my worries, I felt Callum's stalwart hand cup my chin gently, lifting it slowly so that our eyes would once more lock, and I saw that he was smiling, all evidence of any bothersome smell missing from his handsome expression.

"You look terrific," he stated with a smile.

I let him have it with a smack on his chest, which probably hurt me more than it did him. His sarcasm toward my hurried attire – jeans, a lengthy white shirt, and thick, brown jacket – and raunchy, messy hair was lulled by that smile, which somehow told me that he wasn't half joking. He staggered back a step with a light chuckle and I found myself smiling at him – with him. He had that way about him, of sharing his mood with you. But it's somehow different with Callum than any other person who may have that ability – Callum's was much more serene. I knew that he said that for the sake of my fallen face, to make me smile and forget, even for a while, until I can talk to him about my problem. And then, when that happens, he'll be ready to listen.

"Let's take a walk," I suggested after a while.

He smiled at me sweetly and beckoned the way toward the forest with a tilt of his head. "Come on."

"Dad, I'm going out for a while," I called, turning my head toward my father, who I caught watching us intently but then quickly focused his eyes back on the television and pretended he hadn't been, "I should be back soon, okay?"

He turned toward me, simulating to have been startled. "Huh? Oh, alright," he said as he examined Callum, his eyes tracing down toward our linked hands. "Be safe." It was more of a threat than a warning.

"We will," I assured him as I closed the door behind me.

"Hm," Callum began as we strolled toward the forest, his hand encasing mine firmly, "He'll be difficult."

"My dad? About?" I asked in honest confusion. We were entering the forest by now, traipsing along uncaringly but contently. Being right next to the forest was definitely a plus here at Forks. There wouldn't have been any chance of this occurring to me at Arizona or California or Florida, and frankly, I've grown fond of it – its misty, clean air that breezes past my face, the muddy squealing against my rain boots when it's raining, that indescribably fresh aroma that could only ever be made by nature. In a way, that's how I wish everything could be done – naturally. And in a way, nature has sprung me up from the ground, as well. When the mud was ready to consume me, it was nature – the sun and a little rain, and _time _– that enabled me to spring my legs up and bloom my arms wide above my head, yawning to witness dawn each morning. I hoped Callum could have been so natural, even when he limpidly belongs up in the sky, part of the elemental cycle that which offers life to those mere of us here on Earth. But more than that, I wished he and I could be a part of nature's plan – he and I together.

I gazed up at him. He was so beautiful, unlike any of the hot guys you might encounter at the beach – he was somehow so much more than that. His features were the tiniest bit feminine, and that somehow only added to the perfection of his looks. Had I been addiction-free, I sure as Hades no longer am.

"Convincing him that I may marry you, of course," Callum quothed, almost sounding hurt by my slight disarray. "By the way he looked at our hands, I thought he'd have sawed mine right then. And soon, I'd be without both."

I laughed at his exaggeration – and his whole idea about marriage, though my flattery from it would forever go unsaid. "Oh, yeah? And why is that?"

"Well," he glanced down at me, a breathtaking smirk playing at the corners of his lips, "Had he taken one of them just for holding your hand, just imagine what he'd do had I asked your hand for marriage – or dare I say _when_."

"You may _dare_," I laughed again, and this time, he laughed along with me – more sung while mine was raucous. He was the chorus of the song that nature played. "Besides," I continued, "you might be proven disappointed, had you embedded that expectation in your mind, that he'd be that difficult."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," I was suddenly hesitant to discuss the subject, no matter how lame an attempt I'd made at dismissing the emotions that came with the memory of that man. My heart tolerated one, painful beat at the thought of him. "I'd been hurt before, and just, as a father, I don't think he'd want to see a replay of what I went through, you know?"

Callum was quiet for a while. This was the first time I'd ever so much as hinted of there ever being an Edward, which I wouldn't think would be very imbuing, seeing as Callum was incredibly handsome – he must've had a history with the female population. But Edward was a part of my past – a short, but declaring past that was enough to embody him as a part of me even now, within the most painful depths of my heart and the very back, darkest valleys of my mind.

His grip tightened around my hand, but this time, it wasn't of comfort. I took a glimpse of his face and found that his expression was as taut as his hold on my hand, but needless to say, beautifully so. His eyes were narrowed together and they were a brilliant golden hue, ridden of any yellow shade and simply dominated with a sparkling gold. His pupils were a wide, charcoal color, and they reminded me of depth, the deepest in the ocean. They were dangerous, but exquisite. I gasped lightly and he immediately turned those eyes on me, except they were already its usual shade, like sunflowers when the sun is at its highest of the day. And they were deeply concerned.

"Bella," he whispered.

"Huh?" I sounded, "I'm sorry."

He hesitated. "No, I'm sorry. I must have gotten carried away," he apologized as he turned his face slightly away from me. Somehow, that hurt me and my heart dove deep within my chest with a lethal sting.

"About what, though? I don't understand…," I confessed, grasping his arm so that he may know it's okay to look at me. And so he did, and my heart breathed evenly once again. His eyes were apologetic, and angelic in every way.

"That man, to whom your heart once belonged… and probably still does… It's infuriating to think that he—it's just, he doesn't know just how lucky he was, to have so easily loved and then loved in return. And by you, Bella, who's beautiful and strong – arrogant and sizable in argument – contentious, in fact – but who has such a pristine essence that is still an enigma to me," he uttered every word as though he'd eviscerated a piece of his heart to offer with each one. His eyes were almost pained, but I could tell he was attempting to cast them off, perhaps for my sake that I do not worry. I decided I shouldn't express that I _am _worried and that I'm confused to a point at his brief explanation. For his sake. The struggle in his eyes was causing me pain, for never would I want to be someone that Callum should hide his feelings from. I don't want him to be afraid of me, not ever.

Instead, I slithered my hand down his arm and onto his hand, lacing my fingers in between his, a perfect imitation of our already linked hands. He glanced down at me, his eyes fuddled but accepting, and his breath panting soundlessly. I smiled soothingly, locking my eyes warmly with his as his own widened briefly before once again turning away, but this time, not for the same reason – whatever that reason was – as before. He was blushing.

"Spare me. I was supposed to be comforting _you_, remember?" he reminded me and, likely being afraid that I might worry, faced me once again, his fingers curling around mine now.

I chuckled. "What good is concern if it may only travel one way or another?"

He stared at me, slightly wide-eyed, before smiling amorously at me – or so I hoped to God. "You have got to be the most interesting girl I have ever met."

"Mm," I calculated if there was any sarcasm in his tone, "Is that good?"

He chuckled and kissed my forehead softly, and then whispered so that his breath tickled my skin, "Yes, Bella, in such a good way."

"So what's bothering you, hm?" Callum queried as he drew me closer against him. Minutes into aimless trudging along the forest and we've found ourselves in a clear, open lea that was surrounded with deciduous trees and myrtle plants that were divided into a circular and an overall stunning pattern. Callum had led me toward one of the trees, one that was taller and thinner than the rest, and leaned against it as he pulled me back against his chest. He continued to hold my hands when his arms snaked around my waist to hold me, and he rested his cheek against my head in an affectionate and gentle manner. It made me feel at ease to be so close to him, his body cold from the lousy weather but otherwise providing me with internal warmth that was summoned by his arms around me.

The weather was typical – here at Forks, anyway. The clouds feasted ravenously upon the skies, consuming the heat of the sun and overtaking its place high above the mountains. There was no rain, just a mist that floated abundantly around the forest. It gave off a refreshing scent, moist and easy on the nose, and cool, microscopic droplets against my skin.

I shivered – not from the weather, but from Callum's warm breath as it lingered against my ear when he spoke. He was so close.

"I guess I may have just overreacted," I finally said, "Something horribly wrong happened yesterday while I was at my friend, Jacob's, house."

"Yes, I remember him. What happened?"

"Well, we were in his garage and everything was fine. That was until he—I don't know, went berserk, and he grabbed me so tightly and pushed me. My dad said Billy – Jacob's dad – reassured him that it was just stomach virus, but—but, I don't know, something doesn't feel right. Jacob wouldn't have—even when something was terribly wrong. He wouldn't have hurt me," I shook my head unconsciously as I spoke, my eyes narrowed on the ground as I recalled my memory with Jacob the day before, "He was screaming and he was struggling with something. He hadn't grabbed onto his stomach like he was hurt the way they'd said or anything. Like I said, something's wrong – with him and that bullshit story. Or maybe I'm just—" I sighed. I was beginning to sound ludicrous, even to myself. "I'm sorry. Maybe I am just—" Just what? Just what, when nothing made sense and I knew it. I knew it.

Callum didn't say anything for a long time. When I'd taken a peek at him, his eyes were sedate as they stared ahead of him, seeming to see far beyond the trees and at a place where answers lay asleep. His hands tightened around mine, but not roughly – it was almost protective. I was still watching him silently when he'd dropped his eyes slowly to the ground, sighing softly through his nose just before he'd looked at me. His eyes were difficult to encipher, for they carried various emotions – some of which were present without plausible reasons. For instance, while I understand that concern may be one, I don't understand why fear should be, which I believe was deep within the protective layers of the swirling emotions within his eyes.

"No, Bella, I don't believe you're overreacting. It was your friend whom you were concerned about; that isn't unreasonable. How had you gotten yourself out?" he wanted to know.

"I—Well, all I remember was this guy, Sam Uley, and some others standing by the garage. They were just strangely watching, almost too calm – actually, they were completely calm – while Sam separated me from Jacob, saying that he was just in pain. He'd taken me outside, I remember, and next thing I knew I was in my room. I just woke up about twenty minutes before you'd called, actually."

Callum contemplated this and his nose scrunched up like before – just as adorably – as he stared on ahead once more.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, baffled by his incessant expression.

"It's hard to say," he said after a while, "But I'm sure he'll be alright. I think you're right and that it wasn't much of a stomach virus as they'd said; perhaps they just were just mistaken."

"Maybe," I whispered in consideration, "I was planning to come visit him. I mean, I should. Jacob's my best friend and if he's going through something—and I need to tell them that it might be more than just a stomach thing."

"Listen, Bella, you best give him some time, alright? It just, it sounded very serious," Callum suggested patiently, but with what almost sounded like a disguise to a hidden frantic in his voice. His empyrean voice could be a fallacious guise on any given concept, not to mention his mesmerizing, golden eyes.

"But, Callum, I can't wait. There's something very wrong, and I need to find out – I _need _to," I exclaimed in near panic, concern for my best friend rising up within me once more, like an awful wave. I turned around to face him, breaking my hands away from his as I did so. Though I was aware of how much I missed them, I didn't have time and refused to think about it now. I wanted to see Jacob and know – _know ­_for myself – that he's okay – that he's just perfect, or that at least he will be. "If they don't understand, who else would? He needs me."

Callum looked at me for a long while, his eyes unreadable as he bore them upon me. Finally, he narrowed his eyes and sighed, once again taking me into his arms and kissing me on my forehead. "Alright. When would you like to see him?"

"Tomorrow. Charlie suggested that I take an extra day off to be sure. It's the earliest I've got."

"Tomorrow, huh? Would you like me to come with you?" he suddenly asked. This took me by surprise.

"It's fine," I assured him, "I should be alright. Besides, you have school to attend." Not to mention Jacob already carried an enmity toward Callum, and I don't want to worsen his current condition.

"Had you planned to go early in the morning?"

"Probably not too early, but not too late, either. If things are alright with him, I'm thinking I should catch some rest for myself."

"Mm, alright then. Be careful on your way, and don't make your father worry more than he already seems to be," he bade.

But right then, he sounded more worried than anybody, even me.

My engine made a staccato heave as it halted on the sidewalk in front of Jacob's house. I snatched the small, thrifty plastic bag which contained Jacob's get-better card. I'd past by the local market and U-turned my way back in a belated thought to offer him with a gift of any kind – that which I satisfied with my crafty imagination to give him a card. So I rarely do this, and I wasn't quite sure what to do. I was used to having been the one lying in bed with a broken this or broken that, and so I tried to think of what I could have wanted from someone during that time. When I came up with no satisfying conclusion, I'd settled for food – FlipSides Pretzel Crackers, which I understand were his favorite, and chocolate-covered macadamia nuts, which were _my _favorite. I was taught by my mother that food was always a safe way to go with men; the way to man's heart is through his stomach, they say, but I was more hoping that it would reach through Jacob's arcane illness.

I shut the door to my truck and then jumped in dire revelation when I found Billy Black behind the door, unmoving in his wheelchair as he reviewed me with lurid eyes. I clutched my chest and breathed in relief – or as near to relief as his sinister presence would provide me at that moment.

"Isabella Swan, what are you doing here?" he questioned wryly.

"I wanted to come visit Jacob. I heard he's—"

"He isn't feeling too well right now. I'm afraid I'd have to ask you to leave," he urged dryly but in lucid finality.

"I understand that," I claimed doggedly, "But I would only like a second with him, at least. I bought—"

"He isn't well. He needs time, Bella, and I'm sure he'd appreciate that from you," he reasoned.

"No, I'm sure he'd like to see me—"

"Bella," was all he said as he closed the conversation. When I didn't say any more, he turned to leave. Just like that.

My sudden forlorn seemed to have rankled the skies, for liquid dusts of rain came pouring at that moment. I remained fixated on where I stood, which was no more than a step closer to his house – to Jacob – since I got here. It wasn't fair that I've been restricted to see him at all, but that only intensified my growing suspicion over Jacob's predicament. Billy's callous attitude had only facilitated to impugn upon their guff explanation over Jacob's circumstance. I had no doubt that Jacob would wanted to see me, no matter what condition he was in. His unfailing smile when he sees me was an irrefutable proof to that.

But something else was going on – something ghastly.

Just as I turned to leave and threw a last glance toward Jacob's house, something – or more likely, _someone_ – flickered through the blinds of the window, just in time for my curious eyes _not _to reach him.

And I decided right at that moment that I _will _find out what that ghastly thing is, whatever in the hell it may be.

* * *

**_So I figured I have a ton of explaining to do, so if you're not into rambling, you might wanna skip through this note. As I have informed all of you before, I was in the process of moving and though that came and past quickly enough, my internet became a problem. The phone company - Verizon - that supported us met with technical difficulties in setting up our connection, and so that delayed me for quite some time. And then, to be honest, it took me a few days to get back from my makeshift writer's block and regain my posture for writing again. Because I was in such a streak when I first started out, I feel absolutely horrible that Chapter 10 came much later than I'd originally planned and so for that, readers, I'm so sorry. You guys really keep me going and are my greatest encouragements, no strings attached. _**

**_And so today I went to the mall and of all the stores I could have gone to (I was at the Fashion Island overlooking Laguna Beach, no less) I went to Barnes and Noble. Haha, don't get me wrong, I bathed in the luxury of the small cash I'd saved from working as well, but Barnes and Noble was tantilizing, seeing as there were so many reminders of what's coming on SATURDAY. I'm sure you all know what that is, and are as excited as I am. Sooo... I'm going to do my very best in order to provide you guys with two or three chapters before then, so that you guys won't (as easily) forget about my measly little story. lol Tomorrow, I'm going to a theme park in the morning, BUT I will be staying up all night tonight and tomorrow to give you guys Chapter 11 as soon as possible. _**

**_I love you guys! And thank you so much for all of your support and for those who have patiently stayed tuned. I hope this chapter was to your liking. Ex's & Oh's - handwritten_**


	11. Insurance

**And All for Me, to Me, You Sue  
**Chapter 11: Insurance

* * *

The following days were fogged, connected by absolutely no contact between Jake and me in spite of the number of times I tried to call his house. The line was either busy, nobody answered, or Jacob was severely bedridden due to his enigmatic illness. My suspicion matured and swelled with time, entwining nauseated knots around my stomach at the concern for my best friend. It was besetting not to have any idea about the details of his predicament and the consequence it was befalling me was languishing. My energy was served solely from Callum's confident, silver words, which frequently promised that everything will be okay with Jacob.

It was now Friday, almost a week since I've last seen Jacob, however prolonged it felt since that time. Standing now in the parking lot of Forks High School after school, I crossed both my arms and my legs as I leaned back against Callum's '07 Cadillac truck, which I first experienced on Wednesday when Callum had unexpectedly showed up at my house in the morning, insisting that he may "have the honor of arriving with you to school." His ceaseless, classical phrases were arcana to the average mind and I wasn't about to test my mind's capacity and shatter the remnants of my pride, which I knew would be inevitable against Callum's inexplicable charm. I hugged my green coat closer to my body and cuddled my head against the warmth of the fur on the hood of it. Closing my eyes and tilting my head toward the sky, I felt the wind's majestic dance as it waltzed through my face. The weather was slightly warmer today with the sun just barely peeking through the whirlwind of the clouds above. When I'd glanced up earlier that day, it looked like a golden island amidst an angry sea of clouds, but nevertheless, its warmth prevailed even the tiniest iota.

Suddenly, the wind was blocked and a coat of cold slithered against my bare skin. I shot my eyes open at once, only to find a celestial, aurous figure that hovered above me. He smiled down at me handsomely, his shimmering, icy golden eyes piercing me with nourishing warmth that pulsed from inside of me. The man was enticing, with his porcelain, flawless skin and rose-stained, soft lips, which curved into a facsimile of the moon – only his were much whiter than when the shining moon was deserted in the blackened skies of night. His thick, long lashes curled perfectly and veiled his eyes lustrously as he narrowed them toward me. Stolen rays of Ra, the Sun God, encircled his figure, crafting a spiky, captivating look of brushed golden bronze around him.

Behind him, the clouds once again sauntered in front of the sun and I closed my eyes away from the sudden change in the sky. When I opened them, Callum stood before me, replacing the glittering figure from a moment ago, though the mysterious coolness from before did not evacuate from my body. He was smiling as he looked down at me. It was a playful smile, and I braced myself for whatever comment may accompany it.

"Bella, are you tactile?" he asked gently.

"What's that mean?" I scoffed at him lightly, tugging at my hands which I've just realized were imprisoned in his. When had he taken my hands? He didn't budge, but was all the while very delicate with his hold.

"Are you sensitive to touch?" he teased, smiling handsomely as he ran his hands smoothly up my arm now. "Or shall I be so bold as to wonder whether it is only mine to which you become so reactive?"

Damn, conceited bastard.

I shrugged my arms from his hands and scoffed at him once more, taking my eyes away from him as well. He laughed heartily, sounding pleased with what kind of "discovery" he made himself believe he'd just found. Before I knew it, the chime of his laughter faded, sucked within his breath as he pressed his lips against my forehead. His hands crept around my waist and he held me close against his car. Golden pearls paralyzed me in place. He gazed at me for a moment longer before sinking his eyes onto my lips. As he did so, his lips parted slightly, slowly as he breathed evenly. And then his fingers dug gently into the dimples on my lower back and he closed his eyes. He sighed just as his entire body relaxed and he was smiling when he opened his eyes again.

"You are the most beautiful creature I've ever met," he whispered, his tone hard but not fulsome, either. "Even when you are restless," he added with a small, elegant smile.

I stared at him for a while longer before closing my eyes, bowing my head in immediate understanding. How he could have recognized my concern for Jacob amidst the paradise he himself has so casually just thrown me into, I don't think I'll ever know. The back of his fingers brushed my cheek and I felt his soft, perfect lips caressing my hair.

"Would you like to see him?" he offered after a while. "I'll come with you if you do."

I jerked my head toward him in alarm. "Company isn't the problem, Callum. Besides, you're not obligated to—"

"In honest consideration toward his unease with me, I still think it would be better that I go with you, Bella." But his words were well-measured, as though he exchanged some of what he thought to be inapt with more appropriate words, for my sake.

"How do you know Jacob isn't comfortable with you?"

He chuckled once. "I believe _comfortable _is taking the matter lightly."

"You didn't answer my question," I noted.

Suddenly, his face became serene and he locked his eyes on mine. "He looks at you in a way that I could only recognize too well in myself. It isn't difficult to appraise the rapport between the two of you. You care a lot about this boy, as he does about you."

I lowered my eyes at his words. They almost stung with the undeniable truth that clung to them. It only emphasized my anguish toward the sudden, unexplained turn of our relationship, when short weeks ago, we'd been laughing carelessly in his garage. Impetuously, the familiar feelings washed over me – a feeling I've known had always been present, but try to avoid along with the pain. I miss Jacob so much. I miss talking with him so casually, so easily in a way that I've never been able to do with anyone else. The way he'd hold me and take care of me, and the way he'd much more than tolerated me, but _cared _about me. Nothing could have gone wrong. The world was ours.

But this week – this one little week – was somehow changing it all. I'd grown so accustomed to running in his arms in a time of need and want and simply just because, that now I no longer have knowledge of anywhere else to go and what else to do without him. Until now, his presence had been the only thing that has kept me together. During the most vital moments of my life, it was his presence that served as a cemetery to my pain, burying my bothered thoughts aside so that I may bear him a smile. The grueling pain of something so familiar – something so dear – dissolving instantaneously without a warning feasted upon the weave of hope that Jacob has tried so hard to sew for me.

A warm, wet trail fell straight down on my cheek and I blinked in surprise. As I did so, another dropped against my other cheek and I opened my eyes in belated realization – I was crying. I whisked my face away from Callum while I brushed them dry. He was patient, silent as night as I tried to clog my tears with the yarn of hope Jacob has carefully sewn for me. In addition to having glued the pieces of my heart again and again, he'd still managed to give me something – anything – that could accelerate me from merely surviving. He was my only cause.

After a while, I was finally able to meet his patient, awaiting gaze once more. I felt fierce rushing inside of me, suddenly determined, and I wondered if it dripped from my eyes because Callum's eyes widened slightly for a fraction of a second.

"I want to see him," I mouthed in utter finality, in a tone that I hoped offered no other options.

Callum considered this momentarily, his eyebrows narrowing together, before sighing. "I'm going with you."

"Callum, I can't allow that. Jacob obviously has enough to worry about, and apparently, you've known that you're not exactly picture best-friend to him," I argued. "You're being stubborn."

"That could go either way."

"Callum—" And there it was, that rare dominance within his perfectly sculpted emotions in his eyes. This time, it was fret – pure, undeniable fret that coated all other emotions churning within the depths of his mind. Was he really that worried? And more importantly, _why_? I didn't mean, nor want, to inflict worry into him – into those flawless, swirling orbs. "I'll be alright," I assured him through guilt, "I'm just worried about him, but I can take care of myself if anything gets out of hand."

"Why would you assume that that is even possible?" he questioned bemusedly. As it was, I was slightly taken aback as well.

"Now that it's come to mind, I'm not—I'm not too sure," I confessed, feeling silly that I had no satisfying answer to offer to a god. "But _something_ is going on, and I want to find out what that is. I don't believe it's anything good, either. At the very least, I want to know he's okay. He has to be okay. I just can't allow anything otherwise, Callum. He's my best friend—" And then there was a fast trail on my cheek again, like a straight plunge down a water slide.

Perhaps instinctively – abiding by his strict gentlemanly gestures – Callum pulled me into his arms, his hand buried into my hair as he kept me close against his firm, solid chest. He was quiet for some time, and I wished I could have read his face. I felt a cold chill whip past me and I curved my arms to befit his muscular form, circling my arms around his shoulders as I pressed myself against him.

Finally, he whispered against my ear, his lips buried into my hair. "Please be careful."

Callum's words still lingered around my head as I was driving over to Jacob's after he dropped me off at my house to switch cars. His prudence toward the situation was baffling, however disturbingly suspicious it may be. It was comforting to be within his line of concern, but I didn't want to cause him unnecessary worry over me. Or was it all that unnecessary? In the back of my mind, there still resided a powerful and fearful suspicion toward what was going on with Jacob. Like all dreams that end, it was almost inevitable. And like nightmares, inescapable.

My truck screeched to a flinty stop in front of Jacob's house, and I hurried to get out before any doubt or hesitation builds into my mind. As I shut the door closed, I was startled to find Billy behind it again, even when I expected as much. For a second, I slapped my hand against my chest, but my head was quicker. I quickly withdrew my hand before I could display a measure of vulnerability and straightened my chin. His eyes dripped with irritated fury and his lips formed a straight line – concealing grinding teeth, I guessed. I held firm and delivered him a menacing glare back. I was tired of being treated like a fool by this whole situation.

"Bella—," he started in a controlled but hard tone.

"No more of this, Billy, I've had enough. You're not sending me away again," I interrupted him coldly. "Let me see Jacob!"

"You don't understand what you want! Don't you see this is for his own good? Don't you care enough to try and understand—"

"Care?" I spat the word angrily, "Don't _you _understand that this is me caring? I've phoned so many times. You're on wheels; where could you possibly be during the times I've called, Billy? I'm tired of being seen as a fool. All I want is to see him." I fought back the tears as I spoke, and it collected as a massive chunk within my chest that I was sure would haunt me again later.

When he didn't speak, I continued – it was second to crying. "What's going on, Billy? If not you, then this is definitely unlike Jacob. Can't I just see him? I don't even know if he's okay—" I stopped before the sudden ache in my heart could leak as a quiver in my voice more than it already has. I bowed my head, hiding my face as an insurance policy.

"Just," Billy voiced after a while, "to see him."

I snapped my head forward, unbelieving his words after a while, but looking at his face, I could see in his eyes that he's given up. And another emotion I couldn't quite fit into the puzzle. It was almost fear, seen by the deepened crease between his eyes, but I can't understand why such would be the case.

"Follow me," he commanded sternly as he twirled his wheelchair expertly toward the house.

I practically sprinted behind him, an anxious excitement clawing at my skin as I got closer and closer to Jacob. Their house was how it always had been, with its two dim lights and old, wooden flooring, and the ancient mess that the two residents of the house never failed to keep. The only things that were different were the four sets of eyes that now penetrated through mine through indifferent but cautious stares. I recognized Sam Uley as the tallest, standing in front of the others with his arms crossed against his chest, and Embry, a boy to whom Jacob once introduced me to and who now turned his face away from me when our eyes met. The other two were slightly taller than Embry; evidently older but otherwise unknown to me. Their noses squinted insultingly as they stared. Abruptly, I broke my eyes free from theirs as I focused on the more important matter at hand; my reason for being here: Jacob.

I turned toward Billy expectantly. "Where is he?" I asked, ignoring the others and their complete, unsurprised ease toward my arrogance. I had no tolerance for any more things to think about.

"Sam," Billy called, and Sam came forth without another word from him. He continued on through the narrowed hallway and I guessed that he expected me to follow. I hurried behind him and we stopped by Jacob's room. Sam knocked lightly, and when we heard no reply, slowly creaked the door open.

And there on the queen-sized, simple bed was Jacob, deep within sleep and perfectly safe. Recognizing his height when he's standing up was obvious enough, but seeing his legs dangle past the foot of his bed was a whole, 'nother story. I instinctively pushed a step forward, afraid to wake him and careful at the same time – all of a sudden, Callum's ludicrousness was rubbing off on me. He shifted then, but otherwise snored like he was miles away in slumber. I took that chance to close the remaining distance between us. Standing beside him caused a relieved tug at my heart.

"Le'go o' my Eggo," Jacob mumbled, his voice vexed and his eyebrows coming together.

I had to close my eyes to keep from laughing out loud. He was still the same old Jacob – my Jacob. I felt so happy. Just hearing his voice – and even his glass-breaking snore – and seeing him so peaceful while he slept; that was all I wanted. Unable to help it, I smiled as I reveled in this sweet, quiet moment with him. He was safe and right then, nothing else mattered – not all the confusion and the questions I still had or the momentarily silenced fear that remained in the back of my head. What did it all matter to me now, when the object of all my reasoning and all my tolerance was here with me now.

My hand automatically reached to touch his cheek and prove to myself that it was real, but I pulled it back as soon as it escaped from my control. Everybody knew he's got an uncanny ability to will himself to sleep, and I'm still not sure if waking up takes as little effort from him as well. I don't want to take the risk; I would let him sleep. What little I was given was good enough for now.

Instead, I very carefully fixed his blanket against him, uncaring of the fact that he'll ruin it again in a few minutes. I turned to Sam, whom I almost forgot about as he stood by the doorway the whole time, just watching us, and nodded. Before I headed out, I turned back to my best friend one more time and smiled. My effort with his blanket was already put to waste.

"I've missed you, as I still do," and then that dogged tear fell for the hundredth time today, "Wake up to be with me soon."

I closed the door behind me as quietly as I could.

"Thank you," I whispered to Billy before I climbed back inside my truck.

He only nodded and sent me his regards for Charlie.

My mind was strewn in sections of confusion, discontent, and contentment – perhaps why confusion was part of it in the first place. I was so glad to see that Jacob was well, even if I doubt that even the sickliest disease could keep that boy from his sleep. I smiled – I had to. He was just like a baby asleep, but at all the right times, he would become a man that was capable and strong. And with that, I decided that seeing him was enough. I could live with that for now – I could be content. I focused on the road ahead of me, where I measured what time it must be through the growing dusty sky. At Forks, you could hardly tell from the sky what time of day it was, but here at La Push, it was easier to determine because of the slight penetration of the sun through the clouds just beyond the horizon. The ocean was almost a deep onyx color and the waves were wild as they rippled ashore. Yes, I could be content…

Suddenly, a deafening, sharp howl echoed swiftly passed me, like a sound wave that raced with the speed of light. Instinctively, I skidded into an abrupt stop and looked through both my rear and side mirrors. I felt my heart thump with fear, and it pushed roughly against my chest as though it was trying to drag me forward on its own. My mind was blank, but I felt myself fiddling for the stick and grasping it tightly. I waited. Nothing came to feed my formidable curiosity, not even a sound. After just a few more seconds, however, an impetuous wind struck me cold and paralyzed, and I detected a quick but large blur of something dark flitting through the woods.

"We have to go after him! He's not well!" someone yelled a few distances away from me, into the woods.

As soon as I realized whose voice it was – and more importantly, what he was talking about – my breath paused against my lungs. I could only think, '_Jacob!_'

* * *

**_I know, I knoooooow. It's been FOREVER and some of you have probably given up on me... But I hope to revive even the smallest amount of the fans for this fanfiction, because I feel so bad for not having written an update in months. My new school has been such a brat, but eh... Now I know it's a very short chapter, but I really wanted to create a whole 'nother chapter for the upcoming part. I hope you guys liked it! I'll be working on the next one soon. =] See you guys around - handwritten_**


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